


Paw and Order: The Dane Civet Case

by ThumbnailsAndTentacles



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Assassination, Bad Flirting, Drama, F/M, Flirting, Gun Violence, Handcuffs, Intrigue, Loads of characters, Murder, Murder Mystery, NSFW, Political Thriller, Politics, Shipping, Social Issues, Some Fluff, and lots of zootopian politics, straight-up smut, thinly-veiled allegories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThumbnailsAndTentacles/pseuds/ThumbnailsAndTentacles
Summary: Bellwether is gone and Zootopia is under new leadership, including its first fox-and-bunny cop duo. Unfortunately, not everyone sees it that way. When an assassination attempt threatens to incite race war in Zootopia once again, Nick and Judy must track down a mad gunman with an agenda before irreversible harm can be done.There will be shipping as well.





	1. The Worst in Zootopia

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any idea where this is going, you're waaaay ahead of me.  
> I know it's a bit slow at first, the pace picks soon.


“It’s not an attack.”  



“That’s my point, carrots. They’re gonna see it as an attack on their culture. On their home. That’s what matters.”  



Judy tapped her toes idly on the brake and waited for the light to turn. Her view of the intersection – her entire view of the street, in fact – was blocked off by an elephant-sized car parked directly in front of her. This was why she hated driving; there was no thrill on the open road when your whole vehicle was the size of someone’s bumper sticker.  



Zootopia traffic. The central district at five in the afternoon was brickwork, no movement in any direction. It was bad enough in places like Little Rodentia, where all the cars were roughly the same size, but when you had rhinos and bison sharing the road with weasels and ermine, it turned into sheer dog-eat-dog anarchy. Like Mad Max, except that none of the cars moved.  



In Judy’s fairly conservative upbringing, she’d heard the concept of hell tossed around a lot - usually the fire-and-brimstone version where bunnies went to burn for eternity if they smoked pot or didn’t wait until marriage to have tons and tons of sex. She’d never really bought into the concept; it didn’t mesh with her idea of a loving and fair universe.  



Then she’d gotten stuck on this freeway with her partner and discovered that hell was real.  



“Well, that’s what community outreach is for,” she reasoned. “We go in, we explain the situation to them, we’ll make it clear that this is not an attack-”  



“And the more you dance around the subject, the more they’ll be convinced that it is,” Nick finished for her. He took a sip of his coffee and slid his sunglasses down his nose, admiring their complete lack of a view. “You’re not going to win here, fluff. They’ve already made up their minds. Perception drives reality, just look at the election.”  



Judy about slammed her forehead into the steering wheel. “Nick, I thought we had a promise to stop bringing up the election,” she groaned. “I am so sick of hearing that we’ve got four years of that lunatic.”  



“If you’re sick of hearing it, Judy, you picked the wrong shift.” Nick had a way of smiling with his voice; he didn’t show it, but she could tell that he found her frustration very amusing. “You better believe they’ll bring it up at the meeting. I forget, has Humpf said anything mean about tigers?”  



“Knowing him? Probably.” Judy closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not important. The proposal was one of Lionheart’s-”  



“And again, that’s not the way they’ll see it.”  



This argument again. Working with Nick, she’d come to terms with the fact that they came from two very different backgrounds. And on some subjects, growing up predator or prey were just two irreconcilable things. They’d played back variations on this argument for the last few weeks, never really gaining or losing ground. It wouldn’t have mattered if they were in, say, narcotics, but Bogo had different plans in mind.  



After Bellwether joined Lionheart in prison, Judy had imagined some kind of break. She hadn’t just expected everyone to hold paws and sing Kumbaya - as Nick had once put it - but at least a release of tension. There are no savage predators, we put one crooked predator in jail and one crooked prey in the next cell, tit for tat, let it go. Unfortunately, no one had told that to the sharp spike in hate crimes that had popped up after Bellwether’s trial. Now more than ever, Bogo needed them out there, making sure everyone played nice.  



Ever since Nick had graduated from the academy, it felt as though they had been pushed onto a nonstop circuit of town hall meetings, community dinners, and Zootopia junior league soccer matches as the ZPD face. Judy almost laughed when she remembered how desperate she’d once been to get out of parking duty and into the limelight. Once, the ZPD had all but tried to bury her to keep her out of the public eye; now she and Nick were everywhere, doing everything. Thank god Nick didn’t mind doing most of the public speaking.  



She knew why, of course: she was Zootopia’s most visible officer, which made her and Nick the most visible pred-prey police team. It was supposed to be a nice get-along message for the few knobheads out there who hadn’t gotten the love-and-diversity memo. She didn’t mind; it was a soft job, but an important goal. And there were worse people to be stuck in a police cruiser with.  



A very short list of worse people, admittedly.  



Nick gazed serenely at the traffic boxing them in on all sides. “Seeing as we’re not going anywhere, riddle me this: who’s got it worst in Zootopia?”  



Judy let out a very unfunny laugh. “Nice try, Nick. There’s twenty different answers to that question, and all of them end with you telling me why I’m wrong.”  



“You know me so well. Humor me though. Heck, put in in park and lean the seat back, it’s not like you’re going anywhere.”  



He was right, which was precisely why she ignored him. Judy only hunched further over the steering wheel as though waiting for the starting pistol at a drag race. “Nick,” she reminded him testily, “We’re already late for the town hall meeting.”  



“And we’re only getting later. C’mon, think of it as one of the Colt-or-Pupsi kind of questions; in your professional policewoman’s opinion, who has it worst in Zootoipa?”  



“Right now? Traffic cops. And for the record, Pupsi is clearly the better drink.”  



He removed his glasses and stared at her. “Congratulations, fluff. There was literally no wrong answer to that question, and you still managed it somehow.”  



“How is Pupsi not superior to Colt? Pupsi is so much sweeter.”  



“Believe it or not, Energizer Bunny, taste and sugar are not the same thing.”  



“Okay, fine. We’ve established that I’m clearly wrong, which is all you really cared about.” Judy took one last glance out the windshield and put the car in park. Screw it, they were already going to be late. She propped her chin on one paw and looked at Nick in mock-adoration. “So tell me now, Robin Hood, who does have it worst?”  



It took him a second, but when Nick broke, he broke hard. _“Robin Hood?_ Like the kids’ movie?” he asked, cackling, his sunglasses sliding haphazardly down his nose. “Is that the most devastating fox-based insult you’ve got?”  



Judy set her jaw and gave him an unimpressed look. “When I want to devastate you, Foxy Loxy, you’ll be devastated. Answer your own question; we both know that’s what you want to do.”  



“Easy.” He popped his seat back as well, so completely at ease that you could forget that there was a world outside of this murderous little bubble of traffic. He spoke as though detached, reciting facts from a history book. “Remember back during the bad old days? Predator-prey segregation? Separate drinking fountains, all that?”  



Once upon a time, Judy would have argued that time was all over and done with. Not anymore. In some ways, Zootopia was worse than the rural countryside; true, there was a certain level of forced cooperation that came from so many species sharing a city, but there was no privacy here. Country mice - she wasn’t sure, was it still okay to use that phrase? - would at least smile to your face while they talked shit behind your back. All the ugliness was laid out in the open in the big city.  



“Little Amur has always been a tiger neighborhood, though,” she argued. “There wasn’t anything to segregate, was there?”  



“True, but that’s not my point. See, when change started to roll around, the process was uneven. Some species got it better than others. Ferrets, for instance; there was a time when no respectable street in Little Rodentia had a ferret or a shrew living on it. Realtors just wouldn’t sell to them. Then suddenly, the law said they had to sell to preds or face a lawsuit, and suddenly, ferrets started looking pretty good - if you have a pred next door, better to pick a small one, right? All of a sudden, everyone would rather have a ferret for a neighbor than, say, me. Sizeism played a huge part in it-”  



“Nick,” she reminded him, “I am well aware that sizeism is a thing. You and I should know better than anyone that it goes both ways.”  



He just nodded. Despite the know-it-all way he talked, she got the sense that Nick liked it when she argued with him. Maybe it was those savage instincts he still teased her about; something in his predator DNA couldn’t appreciate prey that didn’t put up a fight. Or maybe Nick was just a devil’s advocate-playing asshole, either way.  



“You’re right,” he conceded. “Most people would rather have an elephant for a police officer than a bunny. But it does go both ways; who do you think most people would rather live next to?”  



Judy snorted. “Spoken like someone who has never lived with rabbits, slick.”  



“I’ve been meaning to try it sometime.” Judy’s ears stiffened up before she realized he was still talking. _Did he just say that to mess with me?_ Unfortunately, it was very likely. She suspected that Nick liked to say bait her - always innocuous little comments like that, nothing beyond an ordinary Freudian slip, but just often enough that she had to wonder.  



Either that, or he was testing the waters. Gauging her interest, waiting for her to take a bite. She didn't know it that would be better or worse.  



“Still, look how it worked out. The little preds got it better than the big ones. Or the otters; man, nobody played the model minority card like the otters. But on the other side, you’ve got the bears; technically omnivores, so they had some legal perks, but they got treated just like the worst of us. So the ones who had it worst in Zootopia - and who still have it worst - were the apex predators. The ones who were the worst combination of size and teeth.”  



Judy saw what he was driving at. “Meaning tigers.  



“Big cats, honey badgers, bears, wolves - you should hang out with Fangmeyer sometime, I bet he feels like as much of a diversity hire as you do.”  



The thought had never even occurred to Judy, and it made her feel a little shamed. Aside from Nick, and Clawhauser of course, she seldom had dealings with the predator members of the ZPD. It wasn’t an issue of fear - she’d gone for drinks with Francine, for god’s sake, she was more worried about being sat on - but the wolves seemed to do their own thing. Sort of a pack mentality, racist as that was to say. It had never occurred to her that they might have much in common.  



“Look, Nick,” she began, “I’m not gonna act like the dumb bunny and tell you that stuff all ended fifty years ago-”  



“Aw, darn.” He snapped his fingers. “And here I was all ready to pounce on you.”  



“-but we can’t keep wallowing in the past forever. Yeah, a lot of prey out there are still willing to treat you like crap because of your teeth. And there are a lot of predators out there who’d love to do the same to me.” She glanced back out the window, but no, traffic was still immobile. Judy made a mental note to radio in five minutes if it didn’t show signs of movement. “But we’ve got to let this go and treat this like any other city proposal.”  
She’d said something stupid. She could tell by that annoying sigh Nick heaved. The one he used when he felt he wasn’t getting through to her. It aggravated her right back. Come on, Nick. Don’t get all high and mighty when you think you need to ‘educate’ me.  



“That’s… a really positive way of looking at it,” he agreed tentatively. “It’s just that some of us don’t feel like we have the luxury of seeing it that way. And like it or not, this is going to come up in the meeting; I bet you ten bucks that the G-word gets dropped in the first ten minutes.”  



_Oh, here we go again._ “That’s just a buzzword now,” Judy griped. “Every time the city tries to renovate anything, someone screams that it’s gentrification.”  



“Come on, like you can’t see their point? Little Amur gets rebuilt and suddenly the property values go up. New species start moving in, treating it like an investment opportunity. Tigers can’t afford to keep their homes anymore. Soon the only people who can afford to move to Little Amur are a bunch of upper-crusty deer, the neighborhood restaurants close, and the tigers all have to find somewhere else to live. You can’t imagine why they don’t want the proposal to pass?”  



Judy groaned. Somewhere in her, she’d known that they were going to have this debate as soon as they’d gotten the assignment. She hated arguing politics with Nick. He never seemed to mind - and he was no worse about listening to her point of view than she was at listening to his - but he was so sincere and passionate about what he believed, and if hurt to fight him. And frankly, she was still walking on eggshells, afraid she’d say one wrong thing again and lead to another fight like the press conference…  



It wasn’t just that Nick was the best friend she had in Zootopia. Or that he was close to the only friend she had in Zootopia. Judy was honest enough with herself to know that she couldn’t bear to lose him again. So she held back, as many times as he encouraged her to be straight with him. It frustrated him, she knew, to see that there was something invisible between them, but not to be able to talk to her about what it was.  



“I’ll give you the culture part,” she conceded, “but what do you want them to do? Nick, we’ve been to Little Amur on patrol. It’s the projects. Everything’s trashed or broken, people just let their homes go to pot, and the kids go to a school that’s - that’s a piece of crud!”  



Nick couldn’t repress a chuckle at her outburst. “Crud? Judy, you know you’re allowed to swear in the cop car.”  



“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you. Look, property values in Little Amur are only that low because nobody wants to live there! It’s not safe to walk the streets at night! If the city goes through with cleaning it up, of course it’s gonna get more expensive. But what else are they supposed to do?”  



Nick opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Judy immediately felt a surge of elation; when dealing with a fast talker like Nick, any sign that he had to stop and think was pretty much a declaration of victory. “I dunno,” he said finally. “I’m not a politician. I don’t have a better answer.”  



Judy was sorely tempted to rub his face in her victory. He would’ve done it for her. Unfortunately, there was something about Nick’s little speeches - good hustler that he was, he always seemed to really believe in what he was saying. It seemed cruel to rub his smug nose in that. And true victories over Nick were so rare, too...  



_Damn that Nick Wilde. Even when you beat him, he still wins in the end._  



“There’s gotta be some middle ground,” she tried, a little more diplomatically. “I don’t want to see people lose their homes, but we’re cops, Nick. We know how bad neighborhoods get when people live in squalor.”  



He was still looking out the window. “Maybe, fluff. I hope someone’s got a better idea.”  



“We’re never gonna see eye to eye on this, are we?”  



“Maybe it would help if you said fuck once in a while.” He grinned at her with those sharp teeth. Had she ever really found that smile scary, she wondered, or had it always been that shit-eating? “It might make you command more respect.”  



“Oh my god.”  



“I won’t tell Bogo.”  



“I hate you and everything about you.”  



The truth was, Judy had no problem with the word. She didn’t like to use it, but she had. She’d just been saving it, ever since Nick pointed out that she didn’t swear. One day, when the time was right, she planned to drop that laser-guided precision f-bomb and watch Nick’s eyes pop out of his skull.  



In the meantime, she looked up and observed the stagnant traffic for the twentieth time in twenty minutes. She grabbed the radio and thumbed the receiver. “Dispatch, this is Officers Hopps and Wilde to dispatch. The highway’s impassable, there’s no way we’ll make Little Amur in time. Is there someone else in the area you could send?”  



The radio buzzed right back at her. _“Negative, Judy. Bogo wants you to handle this personally.”_  



“Aw, Ben,” Nick whined, leaning over and deftly grabbing the mic from her paw. “Cut us a break, will you?”  



_“Sorry, Officer Wilde. There’s no other ZPD in the area. I couldn’t if I wanted to.”_  



Judy looked out at the highway and resigned herself to another hour of traffic. “Thanks, dispatch.”  



They heard someone giggle through the static. _“You didn’t think you were getting out of it that easy, did you?”_  



Judy slapped the radio back down in its cradle. “Thank you, dispatch. That will be all.”


	2. Town Hall

Wilde smelled trouble as soon as they entered the gym. Trouble, and a whole lot of body odor. The AC must have been out, and packed with close to a hundred tigers, the town hall meeting was rapidly turning into a sauna of sweat and pissed-off pheromones. Never a good sign in Tundratown. He could smell that the crowd was on edge - and everyone else could too. 

Working as a con man, Nick had learned to smell pissed-off. Civilization was a nice idea, but everyone was a slave to their pheromones, and no one in Zootopia really wore as much deodorant as they should. Mammals wore their feelings on their glands, and when you cut shady deals for a living - semi-shady, Nick would insist - you learned to take those hints. So when some ‘roided-out polar bear started coming at you down the alley and your nose caught a whiff of that particular sour tang on him, that unique little hormone cocktail that told you he’d like to play Scrabble with your facial features, you moved like your sweet furry ass was on fire.

Right now, the entire middle-school gymnasium was a hotbox of frustration and hate. Angry tigers. All of them ten times his size, and twenty times Judy’s.

ZPD officers were trained that weapons only escalate a bad situation. Never pull your taser, Nick’s instructors had warned him countless times, unless you’re absolutely ready to use it. Even personal experience told him how insulting it was to have someone reach for their weapon around you, but it was still a fight to resist the temptation. He and Judy were surrounded by a lot of teeth and pheromones, and he could feel the taser on his belt pressing into his back. God, how he wanted that 50,000-volt security blanket in his paws right now.

Luckily for them, they didn’t seem to have progressed all that far into the meeting. The liger behind the podium who was speaking as they entered added a belated, “In addition, the board would also like to recognize our representatives from the Zootopia Police Department here tonight,” and went right on talking.

The applause they got was brief and brusque. Cops always commanded a few little shows of respect, but the crowd’s patience was already wearing thin. A couple of tigers who seemed to recognize Judy from TV showed a little more enthusiasm, but within a minute, the crowd was right back to ignoring them.

_ “They should have sent tiger officers,”  _ Judy whispered to him as the speaker droned on about zoning restrictions.

_ “Bet they didn’t want to start a race issue,”  _ Nick muttered back.

_ “Looks kinda like a race issue from here.” _

Hard to disagree with that. Even if Nick hadn’t been able to smell a thing, he couldn’t have missed the tension that hung over the room like a chloroform rag.

Onstage, the liger seemed to be nearing the end of her remarks. “As of this time, we would like to open the floor to question and answer,” she announced, chewing on her lip. “The floor recognizes Dane Civet, city council chair of the Little Amur and Dovelet Park area.”

Nick could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. This round of applause was the stiffest yet, even less enthusiastic than theirs, and something told him it wasn’t from ignorance. The name Dane Civet carried some kind of baggage in this room.

Four dozen pairs of steely eyes fixed forward as the chair took the stage. He was an aardwolf, about fifteen years Nick’s senior and suffering rather badly from male pattern mange. He was thickset, a little portly in a way that suggested he’d once carried around a bit more muscle. Nick had grown up in a neighborhood where young men knew to say “don’t fuck with me” just by the set of their jaw and the hunch of their shoulders. Dane Civet had the look, and though he smiled warily now, it never quite reached his eyes.

He felt a discrete but insistent nudge at his side and nodded. One of Nick’s favorite things about Judy was how in-sync they were. Their train of thought shared a track, as his mom would say. But you didn’t have to be as clever and devilishly handsome as he was to guess what she was thinking:  _ Where on Earth did this guy come from? _ Aardwolves liked to stick to Savannah Central where it was warm, not districts of Tundratown, and they certainly didn’t wind up as city council chairs of majority tiger districts.

“Thank you, thank you,” he grunted into the microphone. His voice was like whiskey chased with gravel. Either he was not aware that their applause could not have been any less sincere, or he didn’t care. “And thank you, Catherine, for your remarks. We’re all doing our part to make a brighter future for our community. And I want to thank you all for coming out tonight for your, ah, civic duty.”

If he was trying to woo them, it wasn’t working. He pressed a fist to his mouth and hacked rather loudly, clearing his throat. “The, ah, measures we’re here to discuss tonight were put forward by our bipartisan coalition. I worked  _ personally  _ with Lionheart during his tenure in office to secure funds to -  _ revitalize  _ our little area of Tundratown proper.”

“ _ Bet  _ you fuckin’ did,” someone near Nick and Judy muttered. Nick felt the small hairs on the back of his neck stand upright.

“Now, we’re confident in the direction of our plan,” Civet growled. “As you all know, revitalization efforts go to referendum February fifteenth. I’d like to take a moment now and, ah -  _ ease  _ some of your tensions about what to expect going forward.”

Nick thought that was an odd thing to say. Civet acted like the vote was already signed, sealed and delivered. And yet, looking around the room, it was hard to imagine he had a single supporter.  _ Where does he think he’ll get his votes? _

The first paw in the air was an older gent in a tweed jacket. “Mr. Civet, as council chair, I was hoping you could explain the issues we’ve been seeing at the veteran’s bureau-”

The expression on Civet’s face could have carved a hole in solid rock. “I’m not discussing that at this time,” he rumbled as civilly as possible.

But the old guy wasn’t done. “As a taxpayer who served, I think I have a right to know-”

“I  _ said _ , I won’t be discussing issues that aren’t the renewal proposal.” A tiger’s roar was a fearsome thing, but somehow Civet’s voice cut right through him. His beady eyes swept back and forth across the gym as though he was the substitute teacher of a disobedient class. “As your chair, I’m always available to hear complaints, but we are  _ not  _ making this an opportunity to air dirty laundry. I’m asking you to  _ sit down _ , sir. Next question.”

He sat, but tigeress in a sundress with a young cub fussing in her paws was right behind him. “I think what we want to know, as residents, is… what will happen to our homes? How will you control property values?”

Civet started rambling on about economics and weighing gains, but Nick wasn’t really listening. Judy tapped him again and surreptitiously passed him her smartphone. Civet’s smug grin beamed back at him from the top of the list. He idly scrolled down it; not a single tiger. Every single other council member was a silka or red deer.  _ This only gets stranger and stranger. _

Civet took a few more questions, but the response was muted. Every single tiger in here looked at him with unforgiving eyes, yet none of them challenged the aardwolf. They seemed resigned to the idea that this was all happening, and nothing he said indicated that they were wrong. He walked blandly through his points as though he couldn't care less about this formality, pausing once in a while to press the back of a fist to his mouth and cough violently.

The last to speak was a young tiger in a wife-beater and jeans. He didn’t bother introducing himself, but launched straight into the question. “Where’s the money coming from?”

Civet noisily cleared his throat once again. “Provisions were set aside by Lionheart and myself…”

“No,” the tiger interrupted him, “I wanted to know if this is coming out of  _ taxpayer  _ money.”

He’d had the nerve to speak up twice, and for that, Civet eyed him with particular dislike. “All government is run on taxpayer money, son,” he drawled.

“This isn’t being bankrolled through Dawn  _ Bellwether  _ by any chance?”

He’d crossed a line. Dane Civet had a damn good poker face, but Nick had once played poker to survive. Something about that question bothered him - though admittedly, being likened to a criminal should irritate anyone. When he next spoke, his words were clear and precise, sharpened with impatience.

“As I have  _ mentioned _ , we are not entertaining rumors and conspiracy theories.”

“It’s a simple question, man! Yes or no, was she involved?”

Civet’s eyes flickered across the room, and for a heartbeat, they found Nick’s. Then they dropped to Nick’s side. Then they smiled. “We have a, ah, pair of Zootopia’s finest with us tonight. Officers Hopps and, ah…”

They were treading on dangerous ground now. “Wilde, Mister Civet.”

“Wilde.” His smile widened a little, though it still stopped just short of sincere. “And if I, ah, remember correctly, you were both instrumental in bringing down Lionheart and Bellwether.”

Judy didn’t seem to like being dragged into this any more than Nick did, but she nodded. “Correct, sir.”

“Well, there you have it, folks. If any part of this project wasn’t wholly aboveboard, I would already be in handcuffs.” He seemed to find that joke funnier than anyone else. “The answer to your question is no, young man. I am not affiliated with Bellwether, and I won’t hear accusations. 

The boy didn’t back down. Paws balled into fists, which he shoved in his pockets. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“ _ Sit. Down. _ ”

The meeting concluded in a hurry after that. Civet seemed to have grown tired of this farce, and his constituents didn’t seem to expect any more. Talk adjourned within five minutes and Civet took no more questions. When it was all done, not a single tiger came up to speak to Nick or Judy - or so much as looked in their direction - but clustered by the doors and carried muttered conversations out into the parking lot.

Civet, on the other hand, wasted no time. For a hyena built a brick shithouse, he seemed to just appear at Nick’s side, grasping his paw. “Officer Wilde, pleasure. Pleasure.” He showed off his sharp smile, one predator to another. “Sorry for the confusion. With such a famous partner, you must be used to it. And...”

He turned to Judy and smiled, hiding his teeth. His face wore that aloof smirk that some men think makes them look irresistible. Nick recognized it from his own mirror. “Officer Hopps. Dane Civet, enchanted.” Before she could even open her mouth, he’d taken her paw and gently kissed the back. “Sorry, I’m terribly old-fashioned. We appreciate all you’ve done for us here in Little Amur.”

Judy just smiled back. Nick had seen some stone-cold people in his bad days, but he had to give it to her: that bunny just did  _ not  _ flinch. “We’re very happy to serve your community, Mr. Civet.  _ Both  _ of us.”

“Of course, of course.” He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and then seemed to think better of smoking in a middle school gymnasium while talking to a cop. “I should really be thanking you for all you’ve done for the whole city by taking down those two.” His smile widened. “And I don’t just mean the big, ah, favor you’ve done for my party. You know, I co-wrote the Mammal Inclusion Initiative...”

Nick and Judy had worked out by now that predators usually wanted to talk to the fox and prey to the rabbit. Civet hadn’t gotten the memo. He only seemed to have eyes for the famous bunny cop, something his partner clearly wasn’t enjoying, and was resistant to any of Nick’s attempts to run interference. Only when Nick passive-aggressively imposed himself between the two of them and reminded his senior partner of their schedule did they manage to break free of the aardwolf, and even then he followed them halfway to the parking lot.

“We all know what, ah… what kind of measures it takes to keep the streets safe at night. Especially in neighborhoods like this one. If you ever need anything at all, you know who to speak to - sonofa-”

His pocket had begun to buzz. “I need to take this,” he confessed. “Officers, good to meet you in person. And Officer Wilde…” 

He flashed Nick that solidarity smile again. “You’re a very lucky fox to be working alongside such an exemplary policewoman.”

No sooner had he turned his back on them than Judy seized Nick and made a beeline for the cruiser. Nick’s ears could still pick up fragments of his phone call. “No, Jeremy, I’m doing great. Just got blindsided by some fucking kid at the conference. How’s your evening, you bum?”

Nick sat back in the passenger seat and rubbed his eyes as Judy started the engine and cranked the heater. “So,” he mused, “you wanna say it, or should I?”

Judy snorted. Laughing the way you laugh to a joke that isn’t really funny. “Who the heck  _ is  _ this clown?”

“Read my mind, Carrots. You know, I actually think I liked politicians better when they were trying to shoot me full of night howlers.”

He glanced out the windshield at the pale moon overhead, its light glowing an ethereal blue on the snow. It was a cold, clear night in Tundratown, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was drive all the way back to the precinct and then take a train across town. “You know,” he reminded her, “we did technically clock out at five. I doubt Buffalo Butt will care much if we turn the cruiser in tomorrow.”

Her ears twitched. “Are you trying to lure me over to your place so you can seduce me with your couch again?”

“Y’know, carrots, we’re not kids. We can share a bed.”

She didn’t immediately fire back but fell quiet for a moment. When Judy wasn’t sarcastic, she was always thinking. For a minute, Nick wondered if he’d gone too far. Judy could be so reserved around him sometimes, so quiet and guarded that he was at a loss to tell what she was thinking. He considered walking it back, telling her it was just a harmless suggestion and to forget about it, but she spoke up.

“I like your couch better anyway,” she said simply, putting the cruiser in gear. “Let’s get moving. It’s almost midnight.”


	3. Phonecalls and Firecrackers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zootopian political parties bear no relationship to real-life parties past or present.

“I don’t  _ care  _ what she wants, I need you back at work. Just give the broad enough to shut her up - half? No, she’s nuts, she doesn’t get half.”

Dane Civet paced back and forth on the cheap linoleum, phone pressed to one ear, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. Fluorescent lights hummed overheard. Behind the counter, the smells of soy sauce and sesame oil wafted out into the street. Dane picked up a menu and played with it idly.

“Ramon, I know divorce isn’t exactly a trip to the kiddie park, but we need you back in fundraising yesterday. The ZPP is already raising funds for four years out, we’ve gotta be prepared to meet them. Yes, I know - Ramon, I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter  _ how  _ I know what they’re doing, just so long as we’ve got one up on them.”

He sighed and kicked one of the aluminum chairs irritably. “I - no, you listen to me, I’ll tell you what I told everyone else:  _ forget about Humpf _ . I don’t give a rat’s what he said about lions or wolves or whoever this time. Yeah, I know he runs his mouth, so let him. The man’s got as much political power as a racist fucking bobblehead doll, they’ve made sure of that. Well, so what? I don’t like him either.”

Dane took a couple of deep breaths. Talking to these people always made his acid reflux flare up.  _ The stupid kids in politics these days, I swear. They still think it’s actually a matter of liking the guy in charge? _

“Okay, Ramon, okay. You don’t like Humpf? Here’s what you do: you forget about your soon-to-be-ex-wife, you go back to the office, and start convincing those donors to give money to a better candidate in four years. And if any of them bring up Humpf, just remind them that unless they participate now, they’ll be letting the loudmouths and extremists pick the candidate next time too. You wanna make this party sane again? Get back to work.”

The phone beeped in Dane’s ear, letting him know someone was on the other line. He glanced back into the kitchen to make sure that he was not in fact alone in the restaurant.  _ Where’s my damn chicken already? _

“Ramon, give me just one minute. I’ll call you back. No, stay on the line.” He tapped the screen, cleared his throat, and placed the phone back to his ear.

“Kingsley,” he said, smiling. Even on the other end of the phone, Kingsley could probably tell it was forced. “Good to hear from you. Yes, the mayor’s office did call me. No, I agree. It’s best for right now if the public isn’t aware of my, ah,  _ contributions  _ to the campaign. How’s the voting going?”

He listened intently to the squawking on the other end and sat down. “No, I - well listen, Kingsley, the ZPP is already going to try to block any legislation we put through, so us Lib-Dems are going to need every vote we can get. You’re the whip, it’s your job to make sure everyone’s towing the party line.” He chuckled. “Right, right, let’s all count on the Green Party’s support. That’s what I like about you, Kingsley: you make me laugh.”

“Actually, Kingsley, I am in the middle of - oh, she’s saying what now?” With his free paw, Dane found a small notebook in his suit coat and a fished out a ballpoint pen. Tongue between his teeth, he scribbled down the bare minimum of info he needed to remember, careful not to put anything unnecessary to paper. “Is that’s what she’s saying? Well, that’s just irresponsible.”

He frowned and crossed out a line. “And of course a paternity test would  _ obviously  _ prove false, but we don’t need it to come to that, do we? Mm-hm, Marsha. Well, I’ll see what I can do. No - Kingsley, it’s not like I’ve got a majority share in ZNN. We just have to make sure this doesn’t go to the news. They’ll call it libel anyway.”

Dane ground his teeth. “No, Kingsley, I  _ don’t  _ want you to pay her. Just keep her on hold. I’ll get back to you. Yeah. Bye-bye now.” 

He almost slammed the phone against the table.  _ Fucking amateurs!  _ A senior councilman like Kingsley should know better than to just bribe his way out of trouble. No one in the Lib-Dems understood subtlety anymore; the first sign of trouble and those trust-fund grazers reached for the checkbook. They were almost as bad as the Zootopia People’s Party.  _ It’s the election, _ he thought. _ All the crazies have come out of the woodwork. _

“Yeah, Ramon,” he grunted, sticking the phone back in his ear. “I’m here. Alright, so listen - no, you know what, shut up. I’m tired of hearing it, Ramon. I want you back in your chair by monday, no excuses. I don’t care if that shrew tries to send you to prison, because if you’re not back collecting donations soon, I’ll put you there myself. Do I sound like I’m playing? Good. Let your lawyers handle it. Yeah. Love you. Bye.”

No sooner than had he stuffed his phone back into his pocket than a burly panda bear in jean shorts came stumbling out of the kitchen. “Here you are, Mr. Civet, sir,” he babbled, arms full of takeout boxes. “Sorry it took so long, the fryer-”

“Ah, forget it, Charlie. I don’t give a mouse farts about the fryer.” Dane took the boxes and inhaled the sweet, greasy aroma. “Ahh, that’s the stuff. That right there, Charlie, is why you keep me coming back.”

Charlie wrung his paws, a look of anxious relief on his face. “I’m glad you like it, sir. I’ve, uh, I’ve never met a hyena who likes chicken before.”

“Aardwolf, Charlie. Aardwolf.” He gave Charlie a pointy smile. “And you know what the scientists say: we’ve all grown beyond our programming, right? I wasn’t about to consign myself to eating bugs my whole life.” 

He slapped the panda on the back. “Give the bamboo shoots a rest sometime, Chuck. Walk on the wild side. Predators know where it’s at.”

The idea of portly Charlie being an apex predator was enough to keep Dane chuckling all the way out the door. Guiyang Street not one of Zootopia’s more respectable neighborhoods, but it was always busy, even at this hour of the night. And it was safe to walk outdoors.  _ Look at this place, _ Dane thought to himself, glancing up at the streetlights.  _ What those dumbfucks don’t understand is that guys like me are what keeps those lights on at night. _

His phone was buzzing again. Shifting the bag of takeout to his other arm, he pulled it out and looked at the contact information.  _ Well, no getting out of this one. _ City council members he might be able to dodge once or twice, but not her.

“Tasha,” he said, smiling genuinely this time. “Listen, sweetpea, this is really a busy time-”

Fireworks sounded in his ear. A pair of sharp, staticky pops that left him momentarily deaf. He stumbled and bent over, swearing, clutching his ringing head. The loud noise seemed to have knocked the wind right out of him. His phone bounced away on the pavement and he bent over to retrieve it.

A sharp, stabbing pain bit him in the gut. He couldn’t seem to draw in air. It occurred to him that people were running in every direction. They were yelling, but he still couldn’t hear a word. The pain in his diaphragm prompted him to take a knee.  _ What the fuck? _ he wondered, feeling his midsection.  _ Appendix? Gallbladder? The fuck, I took my pills- _

There was blood on his vest. An awful lot of it. He remembered learning in health class that his body only had a few quarts of blood in it, but that couldn’t be right, because his chest was leaking this stuff like it was giving it away. Someone had drilled a couple of holes in him, like cutting open a maple tree for sap, and his blood was all coming out now.  _ Holy fuck, _ he realized, without feeling much real alarm.  _ Holy shit, I’ve been… hurt? Shot? _

He looked up, dizzy, trying to make out faces. Someone was standing on top of him. His arm was outstretched. He was holding a gun. Dane Civet’s eyes narrowed.

“You motherfu-”

Fireworks. The third bullet entered his chest, and Dane Civet sprawled back across the pavement.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Fireworks woke Judy from her sleep. She opened her eyes and saw sparks lazily drifting past the window. Some idiots setting off their leftover New Year’s cache. Completely illegal in the inner city, of course; no respect for the law. She almost considered going out and busting them herself, but even assuming she managed to catch them, the last thing she felt like doing was dragging a bunch of dumb kids into the station at a quarter to three wearing a pair of old sweatpants.

Nick stirred at the noise, but didn’t wake. Of course not, he didn’t have her ears. He’d curled up beside her on the couch, watching - she had no idea what they’d been watching; it was all infomercials at this hour anyway. She clicked the TV off, plunging the living room into near-darkness, and looked back at him, lying there snoring.  _ Was I just using him for a pillow or… _

Her mouth felt like cotton. Drowsily, she fumbled her way into the kitchen and poured herself some milk from the fridge - then smelled it and tossed the whole carton. Tap water instead. Outside the apartment window, she saw red and blue flashing lights, and heard the sounds of running feet as the little pyromaniac vandals scattered.  _ Thank you, Zootopia’s finest. _

Truth be told, she relished the opportunity to sleep at Nick’s apartment. She didn’t know how he afforded a place that was almost twice as big as hers, and she didn’t want to know either. And his neighbors, unlike hers, were at least inclined to be quiet when they noticed cops afoot. He’d made it clear that she was welcome to invite herself over any time, but she never did so, not unless he invited her. And Nick, sly mammal that he was, was starting to take the hint and invite her over more often on late shifts.

It occurred to her, though, that as many times as they’d played out this scenario, Nick had never actually slept in his own bed. Without fail, he always took half the couch and passed out watching television into the wee hours of the morning.

_ Sure, _ she thought to herself, washing out her glass,  _ we can share a bed. We’re both adults, after all. Or you can sleep on the couch with me and I can use your tail like a blanket for the whole night. Because we’re such good friends. And if I wanted to, I could probably fit myself into the curve of your chest and curl you around me and fall asleep with your paw over my back, listening to your breathing, your scent all over mine, and you wouldn’t mind at all. Totally platonically, of course. _

She still couldn’t figure out what Nick’s angle was. It still wasn’t out of the question that he might be leading her on for no other reason than his trollish sense of humor. If that was the case, she wondered how far he’d be willing to indulge her for the joke.  _ God no. The last thing I need in my life is an ironic hookup _ .

She should’ve just talked to him. You could make a surprising amount of progress with Nick when you forced him to be straight with you. She still remembered the effort it had been to get him to open up about his family. But she said nothing because…  _ because what? Because I’m afraid he’ll say no? Because I’m afraid to make things awkward? _

Because he might leave.

That was the dark little heart of it. Rejection was one thing, that was an uncertainty, but one she could live with. But the idea that she might say something that hurt him again - no, it wasn’t as selfless as that. Love is a lot of things, but it’s rarely selfless. It was the idea that she might say something to make him leave her alone again. The fear that she couldn’t trust him to come back this time, that was what kept her silent.

That was her secret. She liked Nick. She wanted to love Nick. But she still couldn’t make herself trust Nick.

The phone rang in the next room. She dropped her glass on the sink and scurried through the darkness, barking her shin on the end of the sofa, and scooped up her phone. Nick stirred momentarily, then turned over and continued on, his sleep uninterrupted.

“Judy Hopps,” she yawned into the receiver. The guttural baritone on the other end made her ears stand on end. “Oh, Chief. I’m awake, what do you - Nick? Yeah, he’s right here.”

Judy was thankful it was so dark; Bogo could probably hear her blushing.  _ Oh God, I didn’t think about how that sounded at all. _ “I - I mean, he’s in the next room sleeping. Yeah, I crashed on his couch, sir. What do you need?”

There was a pause while she listened to him. “He’s been what?”

Another pause.

“With a  _ gun? _ ”

A long, thin moment of silence that seemed to tremble in the space between seconds like the thread of a spider’s web. Her mouth felt very dry again.

“We’ll be right there, sir. Ten minutes.”


	4. Wolves, Gum and Firearms

The automatic doors to the hospital slid open, and Nick skipped inside right behind a pair of EMTs hauling a beaver on a stretcher, Judy right on his heels. Red and blue emergency lights left spots on his aching eyes. He rubbed at them insistently, fumbling in his belt for his badge and waving it in front of the receptionist’s eyes when she tried to hold them up.

They didn’t have far to go. Just past the waiting room, Officer Wolfard was waiting for them, reclining against the doorframe of the OR. Like them, he looked like he’d been rolled out of bed for this; he was wearing his dress blues, but the buttons were sloppily done up, and the collar of a dirty off-white t-shirt that Nick suspected he’d been sleeping in was visible beneath. He could make out the words “ _ Your Daughter _ ” on it; the rest of the sentence was mercifully obscured by his kevlar vest. Nick made a mental note to ask Wolfard what the rest of the shirt said, and where he could get one in a fox medium.

“Mike,” Judy greeted him breathlessly. “I mean, Officer Wolfard - we came as fast as we could. What’s the situation?”

Wolfard yawned loudly at spat into a potted plant. “If he croaked, they haven’t told me yet. The hyena’s in surgery. They won’t let me in to do my job, so-” he shrugged. “I’m holding down the fort out here.”

“They think someone’s gonna walk into the operating room and shoot him?” Nick snorted.

The timber wolf squinted at him with bloodshot eyes. Nick couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, or just having difficulty seeing through sleep-deprived eyes. “Well they didn’t have a problem pumping him full of lead on a public street, so nah, Nick, I don’t think venue is really an issue for these guys.”

“Have you talked to the doctors?” Judy asked urgently. “Is he going to die?”

Wolfard seemed to find that funny. “ Fuck no, they didn’t talk to me. It’s the claws and teeth, Officer Hopps. Doctors tend to assume I’m the problem in cases like these. And the last I saw of the old bastard was them trying to give him CPR and sticking a tube down his throat. Not pretty. I’d say it’s a question of when, not if.”

“But you don’t  _ know  _ that.”

Wolfard lifted the styrofoam cup in his hand to his lips and sucked at the dregs. “Nah. I don’t  _ know  _ the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow, but if you wanna put money on it…”

Both Nick and Judy had known Wolfard too long to be put off by his attitude. Michael Wolfard usually didn’t even realize he was being rude. A strict pack-oriented upbringing, two ex-husbands, and a brief fling with substance abuse had robbed him of any kind of mental filter. He’d been shuffled to Major Crimes from Narcotics after some kind of drama with his old supervisor, and his daily contributions to the ZPD’s swear jar had probably bought them a new cruiser over the years.

On the upside, you could say whatever you liked to him. On the slim chance he even recognized an insult when he heard one, it was usually too much effort for him to get angry. And stick him behind the table in an interrogation room and he was like Mozart at a keyboard, playing a symphony inside some poor criminal’s mind.  _ Nobody _ lied to that wolf.

“So Mike,” Nick interrupted, “if they shook you out of bed to play mall cop, how many people have they got on this?”

Wolfard ticked them off on his paws. “Fangmeyer’s trying to get his wife on the horn - or he’s been trying to for an hour - Delgato’s pulling up suspects and getting testimonies with Jackson, Anderson’s probably still asleep, and Clawhauser’s supposed to be finessing this with the media.” He yawned. “Good fucking luck with that. I had to chase off some prick from ZNN when I got here, so we can expect that all over the morning news in a couple hours. Fucking ambulance chasers.”

“So what’s he want from us, Mike?”

“I imagine he’s gonna want your testimony, seeing as you were two of the last ones to see him before he ate lead.” Judy gave him a rather short look for his bluntness, which Wolfard completely ignored. “But you’re gonna have to wait, since Delgato and Jackson are probably gonna be tied up trying to shake down witnesses around the Pack Street area for a few hours now.”

“And we’re sure he was shot?” Judy pressed him. “With a gun? An actual gun?”

It was illegal for a private citizen to own or carry a firearm in Zootopia proper. Of course, Nick reminded himself, Judy was from the sticks where every farmer owned a twelve gauge; it probably wasn’t uncommon in her hometown to see little old ladies packing heat. Heavily-armed bunnies, that made for an amusing thought. 

But in the inner city, where things were always so packed and chaotic and - let’s face it - unstable, private firearm ownership was a recipe for disaster. The mayor’s office had banned it forty years ago. Shootings were fairly rare; it didn’t stop random acts of violence, but those usually ended up settled with fangs and claws, not bullets. Even most police didn’t carry anything larger than a taser - it wasn’t like a nine-millimeter was gonna stop a charging rhino anyway.

Wolfard nodded. “The real thing. Couldn’t have just stabbed the fucker, nope. Had to turn this into a PR nightmare for all of us. The talking heads on ZNN are gonna be all over this.”

Judy’s foot beat impatiently against the tile. Her brow furrowed in thought. “The gunman couldn’t be a professional, could he?”

“An assassin?” Wolfard crooked an eyebrow. “The guy’s not dead yet. That’s not what I’d call professional. Besides, there’s always been smuggling.”

“But it’s not like any bozo on the street could get a gun, could they?”

“Fuck yeah they could. I did a tour with SWAT, Hopps. We once raided an apartment owned by some radicals - grazer ultranationalists, real assholes. And as we’re doing a sweep-and-clear, one of them, high as a kite on whatever, comes at me with a fucking kalashnikov. Right in the vest.” Wolfard demonstrated on his chest. “The smugglers are usually pretty careful to avoid selling to cops, but once a gun changes paws a couple times - a crackhead could get his paws on one if he was determined enough, despite what the mayor’s office’ll tell you.”

Outside, a police siren whooped. They turned around to catch Officer Jackson jog inside. Nick smelled rum on him at fifty paces; judging by his smirk, Wolfard noticed even earlier. “Bogo pick you up right out of the club?” he chuckled.

“Fuck you too, officer.” The tiger’s eyes were very bloodshot, and his uniform was unwashed, with dark patches on the armpits. His breath reeked of booze and toothpaste.  _ Probably tried to sober up a bit before coming in.  _ “I was s’posed to start my vacation today. Hopps, Bogo wants to talk to you outside. Wolfard, Anderson’s supposed to relieve you whenever he gets in. Chief says you can go home and sleep.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Judy shot Nick a look he didn’t need words to understand.  _ All this for one sleazy politician? _ He made a move to follow her out, but Jackson stopped him. “Nah, Nick, he wants your testimonies individually. Wait here.”

Nick nodded and flashed Judy a thumbs-up.  _ Wonder how she’s gonna explain whose couch she was sleeping on when he called, _ he through, smirking inwardly.  _ Probably shouldn’t say that to her face. _

No sooner was Judy out of earshot than Jackson turned to Wolfard. “So, did you ask him?”

Wolfard shook his head. “I was waiting on you.”

“Well shit, dude, he’s right here.”

Nick glanced between the two predators, both of whom were watching him with interested expressions. “Ask me what, guys?”

Wolfard’s eyes flicked towards the automatic door, checking that she was well and truly gone. “So what  _ were  _ you both doing when Bogo called?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

_ Sir, with respect, I was just sleeping on his couch. Nothing else.  Nick will tell you as much. There is nothing in the ZPD guidelines against officers having friendships outside of working hours. There was nothing inappropriate between us that might compromise our working relationship, and frankly, it is a little judgmental to assume that we were hooking up just because one of us is female. _

That was the speech Judy had prepared in anticipation of this day. Being grilled by Bogo was like nothing short of the Shrewish Inquisition, and she’d learned quickly to have the answers prepared for whatever he might ask.

Fortunately, that seemed to be the last thing on his mind. She caught him outside the hospital’s doors, leaning up against the brickwork in one of the smoking corners and inserting sticks of gum between his teeth. Maybe it was just the early hour, but she couldn’t help but notice how old he looked.

“This is why police officers shouldn’t smoke,” he grunted in her general direction, cramming the rest of the pack of gum in his mouth. “Every week is the wrong week to quit.”

He wasn’t going to interrogate her today. Judy let herself relax. “You doing okay, sir?”

“The mayor’s office has already called me twice. Used to be, the ZPD had some time to manage things like this.” He snorted, rubbing his brow. “At least they don’t expect me to text.”

Bogo, like many ungulates, had enormous difficulty operating a smartphone with hooves. Keys were completely out of the question. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, it just wasn’t possible to accommodate everyone. “You could yell at me and have me type it out for you, sir,” Jud suggested.

_ Jeez, did I really just make a joke at Bogo’s expense? Nick is rubbing off on me in all the wrong ways. _

Bogo, at least, seemed grateful for the humor. “I’d love to, Hopps, but it’s better city hall doesn’t get to hear what I really think. And I won’t be responsible for making you curse.” 

First Nick, now Bogo.  _ Do people think I don’t watch TV or something?  _  Judy wondered.  _ It’s not like I don’t know how to swear. _

Bogo sighed. “You attended Civet’s town hall. Do you have anything to report that might be useful?”

Judy laid it out for him as best she recalled. “We left him about eleven,” she concluded. “Last I saw him, Mr. Civet was talking on his phone. He certainly didn’t seem popular, but I can’t think of anyone with a real motive.”

Bogo shook his head. “Where Dane Civet is concerned, anyone who breathed the same air as him had motive to kill him.”

“You knew him?”

“That aardwolf showed up at every ZPD event he could. Civet liked having a lot of police presence in his neighborhoods.  _ He  _ said it made his constituents feel safe.”

“There was one,” Judy recalled. “Tiger, young, male, maybe eight-foot-five. Green eyes, wearing a cutoff and jeans - I think. I didn’t get his name, maybe someone who was there did. But he seemed to have a serious bone to pick with Civet.”

“Anything in particular?”

“He wanted to know about Civet’s finances. Seemed to think he was getting money from Bellwether.”

Bogo sucked in air. For a moment, he was silent. “Have you told  _ anyone  _ that besides me?”

“Of course not.”

He exhaled. “Good. Good discretion, Hopps. The last thing we need is the press hearing her name.” He seemed to be weighing his words carefully. “Did anyone there seem to have an issue with you or Wilde?”

He’d caught Judy off guard. “With us?” she repeated. “No. Why?”

“You were there at his meeting. It would be easy for someone to take that as a show of support. Wouldn’t be the first time the police have been accused of cronyism.”

It took Judy a second to see what he was driving at. “Do you really think someone shot him to send  _ us  _ a message?”

“You and Nick have a spotlight on you, Hopps. The night howlers case got us a lot of publicity. Some of it I’d rather have avoided.” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s no secret that some mammals out there thought she had the right idea.”

“Sir, with all respect, that strikes me as implausible-”

“Officer Hopps, do you know the reason I didn’t want a rabbit on my police force?”

Judy swallowed. This was not a subject she wanted to be on. “Chief,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “I thought we’d moved past this”

“We have. You’re a commendable officer, Hopps. But better mammals than us have made mistakes.” He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not due to your size. We need police for smaller mammals just like larger ones. The issue is that the ZPD has had… incidents. Preventable deaths. Caused by smaller mammals.”

“There’s a reason the police force is made up of megafauna, Hopps. The same reason we issue all our officers tasers. Officers get scared. They panic. They make stupid decisions based on fear. For a rhino or a bull ox - or Francine - it’s much easier not to feel afraid when a jaguar runs toward them. Size has its privileges. But smaller mammals have different needs. The threats seem larger. And that means that a rabbit might feel more reason to pull a gun on a suspect than I would.” His dark eyes focused on her, unblinking. “The fact is, the smaller you are, the more likely you are to make mistakes that could cost everyone very dearly.”

Judy opened her mouth to speak up, but Bogo raised a hoof. “Which is why I want you to know that I trust you. You know the stakes. And you know that I don’t say this lightly.” He closed his eyes. “I would like you and Officer Wilde to carry police firearms for the time being.”

That was not at all the direction she’d expected this to go in. “I - I don’t know,” she managed. “Are you certain that’s a good idea?”

“You’ve been through police academy training, haven’t you?”

“I can shoot one, chief, but that doesn’t mean I like them,” she confessed. “At the academy, they taught us that guns only escalate a situation.”

“True. But so do public assassination attempts. Truth be told, Hopps, I’ve been considering this ever since you brought down Bellwether. But I convinced myself there was no need. Now, however - you were uncomfortably close to this incident. And I am  _ not  _ losing an officer. So, for  _ my  _ peace of mind, you will report to Requisitions when you come in Monday, and you will each carry a handgun on duty. Is that acceptable?”

There was really no way to say no to Chief Bogo. Judy bit her lip and nodded. “I will, sir. But-”

“I know you’ve always gotten by with a taser. I don’t expect you to have to use them. But you  _ will  _ carry them. If nothing else, take it as a personal favor.” 

He straightened up and massaged his temples. “Unless he knows something you forgot, tell Wilde he can give his testimony when he comes in Monday. I don’t have the energy right now.”

“Yes sir.”

“That will be all, Officer Hopps. Glad to see you’re alright. Get some sleep.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So let me get this straight,” Jackson summarized. “You are  _ not  _ doing the bunny.”

“Nope,” said Nick.

“You have  _ never  _ done the bunny,” Wolfard clarified.

“Never.”

“Not even once?”

“Y’know, Mike, I think I would’ve noticed.” Nick looked between them both, his ears primed for the sound of the automatic door.  _ I am not letting Judy catch me in the middle of this conversation. _ “Is this some kind of  _ thing  _ at work? Do people think she and I are-”

“Yes,” Wolfard said bluntly.

“Francine has fifteen bucks on it,” Jackson agreed.

Wolfard ticked them off on his claws. “You two work together, ride together, work out together, you went through the academy on her recommendation, she specifically requested you as a partner - and she was sleeping at your place. I can even smell you on her.” He sniffed. “Of course people think you’re screwing; you walk around smelling like rabbit stew all the time.”

“Boy, Mike,” said Nick, “you sure have a way with words.”

“Call it what you want. You two smell like everything short of actual sex.” He shrugged. “I assumed you were going through a dry spell. Or that there was a size issue-”

“Mike,” Nick interrupted, “I’m gonna have to stop you before you say any more words. Judy is my friend, and she’s great, but - we’re not-”

Jackson raised a paw. “You’re not, or you’re not  _ yet? _ ”

“She has  _ zero interest  _ in me, Jackson. None. She comes from a nice, conservative family out in the sticks that does  _ not  _ do interspecies relationships. Heck, they’re not all that common in the city. Even if she’s looking for a boyfriend, I have no reason to think she’d be comfortable with-”

“You sound like you’re reassuring yourself, Nick. Not us.”

Wolfard nodded in agreement. “I bet your nose is alright, Nick, but mine’s better. You want to know what  _ she  _ smells like around you?”

Mercifully, Nick’s ears caught the sound of the ER door whirring open and knew that his partner was back. “Well, gents,” he said loudly, “great talking with you. Let’s be sure to have this conversation again sometime. Like never.” He turned and practically jogged toward Judy. “What’s up?”

“He says we can get lost.” She nodded at the wolf and tiger still watching by the OR doors. “What was that all about?”

“Let’s not go into that.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and steered her toward the door. He could still hear Jackson snickering from his corner; Nick reached behind his back and discretely flipped them off.

Bogo gave them a silent nod as they passed him in the parking lot. “He wasn’t annoyed that you were crashing at my place?” Nick asked once they’d made it back to the cruiser.

Judy flushed. “No! He's probably relieved we're watching each other's backs. No, he was concerned. He’s thinking this might have something to do with us - and that one kid who brought up Bellwether really freaked him out, I could tell.”

“He doesn’t think she’s involved?”

“She’s in jail, Nick. She goes to trial next month. What could she do?” She played with the rearview mirror, adjusting the seat to the difference in their heights. “He wants us to start carrying. Just until this blows over.”

Nick blinked. “Bogo trusts  _ me  _ with a gun? It must be serious.”

“He just doesn’t want anyone coming after us is all. I can’t blame him.”

“So he’s probably not going to assign us the case.”

Judy shook her head. “I doubt it.”

Nick let the unasked question hang in the air for a moment. Waiting for her to say something. When he grew tired of the silence, he coughed. “So are we going to let it go?”

She just started the car. “Nick. Have you ever known me to quit that easily?”


	5. Tiny Guns and Stolen Beer

Officer Jackson paced across the room, examining his reflection in the mirror. To the nervous perp sweating in the chair behind him, he imagined he looked calm and contemplative, the apex predator who could descend any time he chose. In fact, he was using the mirror to check if his eyes were still bloodshot, but this kid didn’t need to know that.

 _I need to stop doing this_ , he told himself. Just like he told himself every Sunday morning in the mirror. Of course he wasn’t going to. It wasn’t the clubs he really needed to quit, or the sambuca shots, or the late nights. Those were just symptoms of the problem. But when he was with Paula, he couldn’t help it. She was an animal, even more so with the lights off. Like a black hole of hangovers, she pulled him into bad decisions, and the only cure for the morning after was waking up next to her. She didn’t even push him into it; he _needed_ to be wild and insane when he was with her.

 _I’m not an alcoholic,_ he told himself. _It’s her I’m addicted to. Shit. Is this how Wolfard was feeling when he was popping Percocet all the time?_

“Is this how they think they’ll get me to confess?” the kid asked, stretching in his uncomfortable little chair. “Sure, us preds won’t snitch to a cop, but I’ll talk to another tiger for sure, right? Is that how this works?”

There was a kind of petulance to his voice, the obnoxious aggression of someone who’s never sat in the chair before. When you ran in kids, they tended to either break down right away, or pick a fight with you like they had something to prove. _Everyone’s a fucking tough guy, huh kid? You have no idea. If you knew what some of the mammals who’d sat in that chair had done, you wouldn’t sleep tonight._

Jackson ignored him. Satisfied that his weekend of binge drinking wasn’t leaving permanent marks, he strode over to the table behind which the kid sat and leaned over it. “Jamal Nimr. That’s you?”

The young tiger nodded. He looked precisely like Judy’s description; Jackson wondered if he’d changed out of the wife-beater and jeans since the meeting. “That’s my name. And I want my lawyer.”

“Sure, sure.” Jackson sat down in the opposite chair. “You can have a lawyer. This conversation can end any time you want. But before you have us call a lawyer, you wanna know what you’re here for?”

Jamal didn’t say anything, but he didn’t stop Jackson either. Jackson took that as consent. “You heckled Dane Civet at a town hall meeting Saturday night, didn’t you?”

“Dude, seriously? Free speech is a fucking crime to you people now?”

So he wasn’t planning on giving Jackson the silent treatment. “No, you were within your rights. It just looks a little suspicious, considering he was shot that night.”

“So of course you had to pick up a tiger for the crime, right? Doesn’t matter if one of us actually did it.” He gave Jackson a cold look. “If you guys were doing your jobs, you’d have arrested him years ago, you know that?”

“Speaking of doing our jobs, Jamal, you’re aware that we picked you and your friend up with a case of beer?” Jackson arched an eyebrow. “Can I see some id, Jamal? Because you don’t look twenty-one to me.”

“So that’s how this works? I tell you everything or you arrest me for drinking?”

“I’m not threatening you, Jamal. But you do need to work with me or this isn’t gonna be fun for either of us.”

He thrust his jaw defiantly out at Jackson. _Another kid with more balls that sense_. “Yeah, I was drinking. And that’s where I was on Saturday too; Freddie stole some of his dad’s forties and we went to the junkyard. He’ll tell you.”

“So you didn’t kill Civet?”

“Dude, I got busted trying to buy beer at CostCo! Where would I even _get_ a gun?”

On the other side of the two-way mirror, Chief Bogo and Michael Wolfard watched them go at it. Wolfard sipped at a can of Colt in silence, waiting. Finally, Bogo asked, “So?”

Wolfard shook his head. “Nah. No chance.”

“He doesn’t seem very repentant.”

“Not every kid drops to their knees begging for mercy, boss. Young guys always have to act hardcore.” He sucked at the soda in his paw. “I can go in there and work him over if you want, but Sher’s as good an interrogator as I am, and he’s not getting a confession. Besides, he doesn’t smell guilty. No one fools this nose.”

“Your _nose_ is not courtroom evidence,” Bogo grumbled, but he wasn’t about to argue. Pheromones didn’t lie, and there hadn’t been a street punk born who could fool Mike Wolfard’s sense of smell.

“It was too easy anyway,” Wolfard reasoned. “If he was planning on shooting Civet, I doubt he’d have been dumb enough to go to a town hall meeting and make a public spectacle.”

“Civet was shot in the middle of the street, Wolfard,” Bogo reminded him. “That makes his killer either very good, or _exceptionally_ stupid.”

A knock sounded at the door. Odd; it wasn’t locked, and an officer would have just come right in, but Clawhauser would have notified them if they were expecting visitors.

“See who that is,” he ordered Wolfard. _Can’t be his lawyer already, can it? No, not possible._ His throat itched for a cigarette. _Christ, this whole mess has me on edge..._

Wolfard opened the door, peered outside, and shut it again. He turned back to stare at Bogo, a blank, uncomprehending look on his face. “Chief, were you expecting an anteater?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The ZPD’s requisitions office was run by an elderly coot named Rufus Mauser. He also ran case files, copied closing paperwork in triplicate, and filed evidence - or at least, Judy assumed that he did, because no one had ever seen him work. And yet everything that came through the office somehow wound up stamped, sealed, bagged, and Dewey-decimal’d into its proper nook. Bogo kept making vague promises to switch them to electronic filing, on the grounds that Rufus might have a stroke any day now, but the system worked so well that the whole precinct knew that nothing was going to change any time soon.

He may have been too blind to use a computer, which meant that the entire office had to run on old-fashioned paperwork, and more than a little deaf in one ear, but Rufus was possessed of a truly unfathomable memory, which he bolstered with excessive use of herbal supplements and cold coffee. Other precincts needed an online filing system to keep track of their weapons reliquary, cold case files, and evidence locker. ZPD central only needed a single bobcat.

 _“Judy!”_ he practically shrieked when they pushed open the doors. As per usual, he had both red converse sneakers up on the counter. Since he worked down beside the boiler room, and was too old to wear anything more offensive than sweater vests and eccentric shoes, no one bothered to enforce the uniform code on Rufus.

He gave her a smile that was sixty percent gums. “How goes the beat! I heard the chief has you on another big one!”

“Hi, Rufus!” she called back, speaking about twenty decibels above normal volume. “No, actually, he’s got Jackson and Wolfard on the Civet case-”

“Right, right! _You_ wouldn’t know _anything_ about that!” He gave them both an exaggerated stage wink. “Say no more! Bogo gave me both your orders-” He went fumbling underneath his desk for something. “It was a bit of a challenge finding suitable arms-”

“I’ll say,” Nick remarked, watching Rufus dig. “Do they even _make_ guns for mammals our size?”

“In your case, Nicholas, the answer is yes!” He emerged, beaming, and pulled out a black box and a pair of reading glasses, which he propped proudly on the edge of his nose. “There’s an entire industry centered around self-defence gadgetry for small and medium-sized mammals! My brother-in-law made quite a lot of money investing back before he had his stroke - a lot of mammals interested in protecting themselves! Made the first tasers, concealable handguns - this was before they were illegal, mind - and my brother-in-law even had one of the first patents on fox repellent!”

Judy felt her face grow hot. She glanced sideways at Nick, but he didn’t appear to have noticed. _He’s not listening, thank God._ “Right,” she said quickly. “So do you have anything for us?”

“Now hold on, hold on!” Rufus snapped open the clasps on the black case and unfolded it. Inside, on a cushion of black foam, sat a gray pistol almost as big as Judy’s head. “For the fox gentleman, fresh out of retirement, we have the Kel-Tec P-32! Semi-automatic, seven rounds per magazine, shoots .32 rounds! Most of the officers who do carry prefer a Glock, but this is a nice compact substitute!”

Nick’s smirk didn’t waver, but Judy could see his eyes light up at the sight of it. He stretched out a tentative paw for the pistol, only for Rufus to snap the case shut. “Now, now, fox! Be a gentleman about it!” He pawed open another box - one a larger animal might use as a watch case. “Always let the lady go first!”

Hesitantly, she took the case and unlatched it. Inside the box, there was a chrome-plated revolver with a wooden grip, so thoroughly polished that she could almost see her face in it. Each bullet was nestled individually in the foam backing, glowing a dull pewter. It was the tiniest gun Judy had ever seen.

“Oh my God,” said Nick, utterly deadpan. “It is adorable.”

Judy tried to make her expression as neutral as possible. “You’re enjoying this.”

His grin only got even wider and more shit-eating. “I’m trying not to, carrots, I really am.”

“Custom-made C1ST revolver!” Rufus shouted with pride. “Smallest of its kind in the world! We seized this one at customs and imports a while back, and it’s been collecting dust on an inventory shelf since! I was told you needed something you could fire with only one paw!”

Judy had used training revolvers this size at the academy, but that was only a formality for class - she could carry a nine-millimeter over her shoulder if she had to, but she’d never planned on being in any situation where she’d actually be expected to shoot her way out. _I’m a rabbit, it’d be easier for me to dodge a bullet than fire one._

“Rufus,” she said slowly, trying to let him down gently, “this thing is tiny, even for me. Does Bogo actually expect me to defend myself with this?”

Rufus just grinned toothlessly and shook his head. “Against anything your size or smaller, it’s every bit as lethal as a Ruger! Now, if you’re facing something bigger like a badger, it’ll certainly hurt ‘em, but you’ve got a better shot with the taser than anything!” He fished a pawful of forms and a couple pens out from underneath the desk and shoved them at Nick and Judy. “You’ll need these filled out!”

“Then why on earth would he assign it to me?”

Rufus just glanced sideways at her. “You don’t know the kid very well, do you Judy?”

Nick just barely held down a snort of laughter. “The _kid?_ ”

“I dunno if you’ve seen him in action very much, Miss Judy, but Bogo’s not as tough as he thinks he is! He talks big game, but the way he hovers around some of these cops, you’d think he was a daddy sending his daughter off to prom!” The bobcat cackled to himself. “People go to stupid lengths if they think it’ll protect the ones they care about, Hopps! He’s no different!”

Judy felt herself flush. Thankfully, Nick didn’t notice; he was already eagerly filling out paperwork in anticipation of getting his paws on his new toy. She remembered her dad, standing on the train station in Bunnyburrow, pestering her to carry fox repellant. She picked up the revolver in one paw and weighed it. _I still don’t care for it, but… well, what the heck. If it helps him relax a little bit. At least it’s pretty much harmless._

An idea occurred to her. “So, Rufus,” she asked conversationally, sliding her share of the paperwork into Nick’s paws. He glared at her, but started filling it out. “You’ve got a good memory-”

“It’s my supplements!” Rufus announced. “Cleans out your mind! And your bowels!”

“So you know a lot about Zootopia,” she barrelled on ahead, pretending that she hadn’t heard that. “What do you know about Dane Civet, the politician who just got shot?”

Rufus looked up and peered owlishly at her through his glasses. He frowned. “Civet? He’s a prick!”

Nick snorted. “Yeah, but more specifically?”

“You wanna know about the politician, or the mammal?” He grinned. “I know him better than you’d think! You wanna know something incredible? My idiot son, when he went through college thirty years ago, sat smack in the middle of two of the worst politicians in Zootopia’s history: Leodore Lionheart, and Dane Civet!”

Judy hadn’t expected an answer that easily. Even Nick looked stunner. “Holy crap,” she muttered. “Does Bogo know?”

“No one knows! I know everything about this city, but no one asks ‘cause I work in the darn basement all day!” He hooted with glee. “He was a prick then too, but at least he was a naive prick! This was a couple decades after the predator rights movement, but things were still bad for us! Those two crooks started off on the same page, and Lionheart joined the Zootopia People’s Party, but for whatever reason, Civet defected to the Lib-Dems.”

Judy wrinkled her nose. “Weren’t the Lib-Dems a big prey party?”

“Wasn’t uncommon,” Nick explained. “Insectivores like aardwolves sometimes tried to curry favor with prey. I bet Civet wanted to have his cake and eat it too.”

“I’ll say!” Rufus hollered. “Civet was a coward, but he saw the writing on the wall! And if you can’t beat ‘em…” The bobcat spat. “When the Lib-Dems got their turn to redraw the voting districts, they put Civet in charge of Little Amur and Dovelet Park! That was where my son was living after he married - and boy, if you two think interspecies relationships are hard these days, the prejudice they faced back then-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nick interrupted. To Judy’s surprise, he was now that one who looked flustered. “Your son was in an interspecies marriage?”

“Course! She was old money in Dovelet Park - it’s the biggest deer neighborhood in Zootopia! I didn’t care for her, but he wasn’t about to ask my permission!”

“Deer.” A light turned on in Judy’s head. “Nick! The city council for Little Amur were all _deer!_ That’s the reason the tigers hate Civet so much-”

“Because he doesn’t really represent them,” he finished for her, eyes brightening. “The deer outnumber the tigers enough to keep him in office. _That_ was why he was acting so bored at the meeting. He didn’t even need their votes for his project.”

“Gerrymandering.” Judy scowled. “That’s _incredibly_ crooked.”

Rufus nodded. “He’s been their - aw, whaddaya say - their token predator for years! The only chomper around who doesn’t eat deer, so they’re not afraid of him! And he keeps the big, bad, scary tigers in check!” He shook his head. “When I was in school, they taught us we were evolved past all that primal fear nonsense! Shame not everyone in this city is as evolved as you two!”

Judy shared a look with Nick. “Bogo needs to hear this,” she decided.

“It still doesn’t give us any suspects, though,” he reasoned. “It’s not like a herd of middle-class deer were at the top of our list anyway.”

“But we know he had enemies. If we can-” Judy paused. The radio on her belt was buzzing. She unclipped it and pressed the call button.

 _“Wilde? Bunny?”_ The reception was awful. _“I know you’re in the building. Pick up.”_

It was Jackson’s voice, overlaid with heavy static. Judy pressed the talk button and spoke into it. “Copy, Jackson. What’s the situation?”

They could almost hear the tiger seething on the other end of the radio. _“Hopps, I will fucking pay you to come get this guy off my back. Over.”_


	6. Friends with Extralegal Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your damn minds out of the gutter. When I ship them, you'll know it.

Nick didn’t need a walkie talkie to hear Jackson’s SOS. You could hear the conversation quite clearly from the stairwell. “-it’s simply out of the question. We need to have oversight into this matter at once-”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir,” Jackson replied as civilly as he could. He was obviously trying to be polite, but even through a metal door, Nick could hear a distinctive note of _someone please help me_ in his voice.

 _The ZPD really needs to scrape together funding to get Jackson some acting lessons,_ Nick thought as they mounted the stairs.

They found the tiger cornered by the interrogation rooms, pinned down by a truly bizarre couple. A giant anteater wearing shirtsleeves and khakis was in his face, gesturing emphatically in the general direction of Jackson’s chest. In the corner, saying nothing but blocking his escape, stood a tapir in a tasteful black pantsuit, eyes flicking between the conversation and the BlackBeary in her paw.

“It’s not that we’re displeased with the way this investigation is being run,” the anteater insisted, prodding Jackson in the chest. There are not many animals that can poke a tiger with impunity, but a giant anteater is one. He was _enormous_ \- up to Jackson’s chin, and Jackson was not short. His voice however, was high and reedy. “But my office _must_ insist on collaborating fully with the ZPD for the duration of this investigation, that is _not_ negotiable-”

“ZPD protocol forbids the release of case-sensitive information during an ongoing investigation,” Jackson repeated robotically. Even Nick felt sorry for the poor goon; it appeared that both Bogo and his own partner had completely ditched him. _Slow death by anteater. That’s just cruel._ “Like the chief told you-”

“I want to _talk_ to your chief, _officer_ , not to you. If you would let me do my job-”

“Sir, be reasonable.”

“How can you _not_ see this as an attack on us? Ever since our party regained the mayor’s office, we’ve had _nothing_ but death threats and hostility from predators. If there is any evidence that we can expect another assassination-”

As far as Nick was concerned, this was a better show than cable. Judy and her functional moral compass, however, always had to spoil the fun. Taking a deep breath, she charged in to save her fellow officer.

Jackson almost melted with relief as she rounded the corner - only to be immediately body-checked by the tapir. “That’s close enough, ma’am,” she warned, keeping the bunny at paw’s length while her boss practically chest-bumped a tiger.

“It’s alright,” Jackson announced eagerly. “Judy Hopps is our foremost officer. In charge of only the most _sensitive_ cases.”

“Indeed.” The anteater seemed to abruptly lose all interest in Jackson, turning aside with a sweep of his dust-mop tail to look at Judy. He knelt down to shake, engulfing her entire forepaw in his three toes. “Finally, someone with authority around here. Hardey Varkner, secretary-general of the Liberal Democrat Party. It is _good_ to meet the officer who took down those two crooks and returned sanity to our city. Are you a registered voter, officer?”

Jackson was all but begging her with his eyes. Judy just smiled and looked into Varkner’s beady eyes. “Yep. That’s me. Officer Hopps. In charge of important investigations. Like this one.”

 _Not technically a lie,_ Nick thought approvingly.  _Bonus points._

Jackson made some halfhearted excuse about talking to Bogo, but the anteater was no longer listening. In another second, all that was left was Jackson’s striped tail vanishing around the corner. It occurred to Nick that he probably wasn’t coming back. _You owe her for this, you big baby._

“Well, it’s good to know that the ZPD has put its best on the case, at least,” Varkner puffed. He gestured to the tapir, who was currently, giving Nick the shifty eye. “Don’t mind my entourage. Miss Tenuk is the best assistant I could ask for - and our head of security. I can’t escape her.”

“Mister Varkner, I thought we were clear.” Unlike Varkner, who spoke with a bit of a nasal squeak in his voice, the tapir slowly and clearly enunciated every word. Her voice was dim and without enthusiasm. “We must be ready to expect anything. A security detail is necessary. And you call me _Citra_ , not _Miss Tenuk_.” She nodded stiffly to Judy. “The same for you, Officer. Please. I insist.”

Judy just nodded and beamed back at her. Nick was a good liar, but he had to admit, no one faked sincerity like Judy. Even more amazingly, most of the time she didn’t need to fake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Citra. This is my partner, Officer Wilde.”

The tapir took Judy’s paw, then evidently took the hint and moved aside to let Nick enter the conversation. “The ZPD trains fine security personnel,” she remarked. “If either of you should consider a career change-”

“Good lord, Citra, don’t go trying to recruit them right out of the office.” Varkner seemed to notice Nick for the first time, and he nodded formally. The same kind of nod Nick received when he walked past a prey on the street. “I’ve heard of you too, Officer Wilde. You’re a credit to your family. Hopps, I’m here because this situation is urgent. I’ve come to request that all materials related to this investigation be shared with my security team.”

Judy didn’t even hesitate. “I assure you, Mr. Varkner, we’re doing all we can-”

“Of course you are,” he agreed, bobbing his snout. “I have no doubt of the capabilities of the doe who saved this city twice. And please, _Mister Varkner_ was my grandfather. It’s Hardey.”

“Well, Hardey, we can’t give out evidence before closing a case. It would compromise our investigation if we tried to bring it to court later.”

Varkner steepled his claws in front of his chest. “Officer, I’m not asking you to compromise much of anything. I’m only asking for the information I need to keep my people safe. I’m sure you have enough to convict regardless, but saving lives takes priority, as I’m sure you’d agree.”

Judy blinked. “What makes you so sure we can convict anyone?”

“Officer Hopps, the ZPD… is, well, a bureaucracy. We all love our red tape. But you and I both know already that you’ve got your killer sitting right in this building in a cell.”

“Jamal is a _kid_ ,” Nick spoke up for the first time. There was something subtle lurking in Varkner’s tone that he’d heard before, and it raised the hackles on the back of his neck. “We haven’t proven anything.”

“He all but confessed to it at a public meeting, as I hear it. He’s hardly a criminal mastermind, but any young thug can figure out how to shoot a gun. And who else would it be, a deer?”

It was subtle, but Nick caught Judy quickly glance sideways at him. He felt a pang of annoyance. _Chill out, fluff, I’m not about to go savage on his ass for saying that._ “We’re not making any assumptions at this point…” she began warily.

“There’s a difference between baseless assumptions and the bleeding obvious! Who but a tiger had motive to kill a public servant like that?”

“Civet hasn’t died yet-”

“And assuming he survives his injuries, he’ll no doubt want to press charges immediately!” the anteater huffed. “You don’t know the extent of the violence we’ve been threatened with since the election, Mister Wilde. We’re facing radicals, regressives, predator supremacists - we’ve received daily death threats from the ZPP for daring to have a different _ideology_. Try to look at this from my point of view: I have no reason to believe that this incident will not happen again, and soon.”

Nick shook his head. “We can’t break the rules for you, Hardey - can I call you Hardey? Personally, I’d _love_ to help, but I’d rather not have the chief turn me into a rug.”

“But,” Judy interrupted, “we _can_ tell you that we have no evidence that says this was anything other than an isolated case. We haven’t heard anything that would indicate anyone else in your party is in danger.”

“With all respect, Officer, you don’t have my analysis team-”

The tapir suddenly cleared her throat, never once looking up from her phone. “I believe in Officer Hopps’ capacity to adequately interpret the evidence,” she said slowly, tone never changing. “So long as she agrees to notify us as soon as she learns anything that could endanger the lives of party members…”

Varkner clearly didn’t agree, but without his backup it was now two-on-one and he was on unfamiliar ground. “I expect to be notified _the second_ you hear proof,” he asserted. “The very _second_ , Officer Hopps. And I will be discussing the investigation further with the chief - _especially_ pertaining the the guilt of Jamal Nimr.”

Without a word, Citra opened her wallet and dispensed business cards. When Nick didn’t move to take it from her paw, she stuffed it in the open pocket of his shirt and gave him a bland, tasteless look. “Sir, now that we have that covered, your two-thirty budget meeting-”

“Alright, alright!” Nick could swear he heard Varkner mutter “slave driver” as she held the door open for him. On his way out, he leveled a toe at Judy. “I’ve heard great things about you, Officer Hopps. I have only the highest expectations. Just remember, the mayor’s office is your ally.”

Muttering to himself, he disappeared into the lobby. Citra paused in the door and gave Judy a quick nod. “My information is on the card as well,” she droned. “In case you two feel like discussing a career change. Or want to meet for drinks. And thank you again.”

Judy waved at her retreating figure through the frosted glass door. For a moment, they were alone with the interrogation cells.

“So what do you think she drinks?” Nick finally asked to break the silence. “Rubbing alcohol, straight out of the bottle?”

Judy made a noise somewhere between a giggle and an exasperated sigh. The noise she always made when she thought he was funny but was too professional to laugh, Nick had learned. She elbowed him in the ribs. “Be nice. She did get him out of here faster than we could’ve. Lots of decent people can’t help being really… _really_ boring.”

“So what, are you planning a career change? I hear private security pays well.”

“Nick,” she said stoically, “if I ever decide the best way to change the world is by being a mall cop, please tase me until I come to my senses.” She shook her head. “Although at least she had the manners to make the offer to both of us. I swear, that guy - he acted like I was the only one in the room!”

Hearing her get worked up on his behalf was nice, but Nick also found it rather draining. “Judy, it’s fine,” he told her for what felt like the millionth time. “It doesn’t bother me-”

“It bothers me! You’re every bit the cop I am-”

Nick held up a paw. “One sec,” he muttered, ears swiveling to the sound of movement around the corner. They were being listened to. He sniffed the air briefly, then raised his voice. “Well, so much for the top of the food chain! What’s the matter, the big bad apex predators need a bunny rabbit to save them?”

For a moment, there was nothing; then Wolfard and Jackson emerged sheepishly from around the corner, followed by Bogo, who was doing his best to act as though he hadn’t just ditched his subordinate officers.

“Don’t look at me like that, Wilde,” he growled. “You haven’t been on the phone with city hall every five minutes since Saturday night. I was _delegating_.”

“Sure, boss. You _delegated_ right in the opposite direction.”

“My species evolved on tundra,” Wolfard muttered. “We have no defense mechanism against anteaters.”

Jackson hit him on the shoulder. “You still ran out on me!”

“Did you see his tongue? It was like a foot long. It’s unnatural.”

Nick cleared his throat. “While I’m glad we all agree that everyone owes Judy and me - mostly me - an apology for covering for them, we have important news. Rufus has some background information on Civet. He may have been involved in gerrymandering.”

Bogo ran a hoof down his forehead. “I thought I was clear-”

“Chief,” Judy interrupted, “I know you want us to keep our distance from this case. We’re not trying to get involved. But we can help-”

“I know you too well to think I can stop you, Hopps,” Bogo grunted. “But you’ve got your assignments. I want you both back on patrol and away from this mess - and make sure you’re both well-armed. Varkner seems to think this attack wasn’t the last.”

“Chief,” Jackson added, “it’s not as though we couldn’t use the assistance. If Jamal Nimr didn’t do it, we’re up against a brick wall.”

“We haven’t finished questioning him yet, Jackson. Don’t get ahead of yourself. And there’s still the count of underage drinking.”

“He’s eighteen, chief.” Nick’s hair was on end again. Something about today was just eating away at his patience. “Of course he’s an idiot. Are you going to look me in the eyes and tell me that you spent _your_ whole teens sober and boring?”

Bogo didn’t speak, but his eyes warned Nick to shut up. “If he cooperates,” he finally said. “We’ll let him off with a warning. After that, I want you two idiots brainstorming leads, and the two of _you_ ,” he pointed to Nick and Judy, “back in your car. Now if no one has any more problems, I’m going to take an aspirin.”

There wasn’t much else to say when Bogo issued a decree. Judy bit her lip hard and furrowed her brow, but didn’t argue. She stayed like that the whole way out of the building and into the parking lot, her partner trailing behind her and trying not to laugh. Nick had always thought she looked like a furious stuffed animal when she got serious.

She slammed the cruiser door and sucked down a deep breath. “I _get_ that he’s worried. And I trust Mike and Sher. But-”

“If Bogo thinks he can make you quit, Judy, he doesn’t know you very well.”

She chewed on that for a moment. “Nick - I’m sorry I got so bent out of shape on your behalf.”

Nick fished Varkner’s business card out of his pocket and flicked it out the window. “It’s fine, carrots.”

“It just - I know you’re capable of speaking for yourself, but I get so _angry_ seeing you treated like that.”

“Fluff-”

“I know I shouldn’t speak for you-”

 _“Judy.”_ Nick said very loudly. Judy flinched and clammed up. “I’ve spoken up for you before, remember? I got between you and Bogo when he wanted to take your badge.”

“I remember.” She nodded solemnly. “It - that means a lot to me, Nick.”

“Yeah, I know. And you know what? It means a lot to me that you’re willing to kick a politician’s ass for disrespecting me.” He dug out his sunglasses and flipped them open. “If I’d had anyone like you around to stick up for me when I was younger, I probably wouldn’t have had such a garbage fire of a life. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ known someone quite like you. So what are you so nervous about?”

She ran a paw over the steering wheel, playing with it. “Nick, I’m not nervous. I just… don’t wanna be overbearing.”

 _You just jumped like I was about to hit you._ Nick tried to keep his expression neutral, but he’d seen that look on her face before. Just for a second, that same look of shock and fear. Fear of him, that was the kicker.

_“You think I might try to… eat you?”_

He’d only seen it once or twice since they’d patched things up, and only for a millisecond, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind. He’d never managed to talk about it. Nick made a lot of prey uncomfortable, he understood that. He couldn’t help it; he was who he was, and some mammals only saw teeth and claws when they looked at him. But that look on her face, that raw, tangible fear that he might do something to hurt her…

It hurt to know she thought he was capable of that, even if it was only her instincts talking. It felt a little like betrayal, that was true. But more than anything, that look made him hate himself. There was no way around it: Judy was the kindest person he knew, and if she had even a shred of fear that he might hurt her, then there must be something wrong with him. He couldn’t live knowing that she was afraid of him.

“You know we’re friends, right?” he asked as gently as he knew how.

“Of _course_ , Nick.”

“And you know we disagree about things, right? And I’m not always right - like ninety-nine percent of the time, but but still.”

She chuckled softly. “I _know_ , Nick.”

“It’s just-” _Oh boy, how to put this one?_ Any minute, one wrong word, and she might wince away from him again; it was torture. “Sometimes I feel like - I don’t want to make you nervous. I mean, I feel like I’m making you anxious. You’re my partner, you know you have a free pass to bust my ass when I deserve it, right?”

Judy massaged her temples. “Nick - look, I’ve been stressed out about this case. I’m sorry if I’ve been giving you… weird signals. I just want to solve this and get back to normal.”

 _Weird signals. That’s all this is. That’s all you’ve been reading into, Nick._ “Right,” he managed. “Back to normal.” _Nothing weird between us. Nothing about me making you anxious. Perfect friends, the way it was meant to be._

“But we still need a _lead_.” Judy smacked her paw down hard on the steering wheel. “Darn it, why couldn’t Bogo at least let us brainstorm with Jackson and Wolfard? Now we have no suspects.”

“Not quite, fluff.” An idea had been rolling around in Nick’s mind for the past few minutes, and it brought a smile to his face. “I don’t think Jamal did it, but he _did_ give us a name.”

She stared sideways at him. “Did he say something in interrogation? You were with me the whole time.”

“Before that. He mentioned our favorite jailbird in maximum security.”

“You _don’t_ mean-”

”Hell yeah I do. C’mon, carrots, wanna visit our old friend Bellwether?”


	7. The Ewe Who Sold the World

A short, barking alarm sounded as the huge metal intake doors swung open. A pair of rhinos in uniform ushered Nick and Judy forward, toward a hallway labeled _Inmate Processing._ A beaver manning a metal table held up a paw and stopped them short.

“Please turn over all weapons and any metal items you might be carrying, keys, jewelry, et cetera,” he recited in a bored voice. Judy dropped her taser and handcuffs in the bucket, then unholstered her new pistol and plunked that in too. The beaver picked up her tiny weapon and looked it over with an expression that clearly said, _Really?_

“Hey, I know you,” he said in a bored voice as Nick struggled with the buckle on his belt. “First bunny cop, right?”

Normally, nothing put the sunshine in Judy’s day like being recognized. Unfortunately, the meeting with Varkner had left a nasty taste in her mouth. “Yes,” she said, smiling dutifully. “And this is my partner Nick, the ZPD’s first _fox_ officer.”

“Cool, cool. Y’know, nobody thought a beaver could do this job either. Guess who proved ‘em wrong?” He smirked and patted his own chest. “You keep up the good work, Officer Cottontail. Show those assholes it’s a new day in Zootopia.”

“Should I take my shoes off too?” Nick asked, having finally managed to extricate himself from all his various metal devices.

The beaver rolled his eyes. “Metallic objects should be sufficient, sir.”

“Y’know, you run this table really well. Did you ever work in airport security?”

The beaver picked up a baton and sighed. “Everyone’s a goddamn comedian.” The wand buzzed as he swiped it up and down Nick and Judy. “Clear. Enjoy your visit.” He sat back at his chair and reopened his magazine as the two officers descended down the hallway, into the bowels of the Leodore Lionheart Correctional Facility - a name that was becoming more ironic by the day.

 _Just goes to show you,_ Judy thought, _never be vain enough to put your name on a building. It’ll never end well._

“I always wondered if they kept him here,” Nick mused, popping a stick of gum in his mouth as they walked. The hallway was bare concrete and cinderblock, painted the same ugly shade of light green, which made it glow under the fluorescent lights. “I mean, if you were a judge, would you be able to pass up a joke like that?”

“I’m pretty sure they put him under house arrest.” Judy thought about it. “Although, it _would_ have been funny if they’d put him in one of the cells of that research facility he had.”

“House arrest, huh? I saw a few mammals get arrested, but nobody I knew ever got house arrest. Rank has its privileges, I guess.” Nick shook his head. “Say, fluff, you’re popular. You think if _you_ committed a crime-”

“Nick, the only crimes I’ve ever been involved in are the ones I’ve investigated, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“Yeah, but you _are_ a witness to a homicide. Or you will be, if Bogo finds out this was my idea.”

At the end of the hallway, they stopped in front of a wire mesh door. A light blinked red overhead. Their security escort took up positions on either side, waiting. The light turned yellow, and the door swung open.

“Why can’t you do this?” The both of them stepped inside and found themselves in a wire cage. In front of them, they could see the empty interrogation cell - nothing but two chairs and a metal table, all bolted down. Behind them, the door swung shut and clicked. The yellow light began flashing. “You’re the smooth talker. Hustle something out of her.”

Nick shook his head. “You were the lynchpin in her plan, Hopps. As far as she’s concerned, I’m just some schmoe you dragged along for the ride. _And_ I’m a fox. I go in there and start waving my badge around, all I’m going to get is mean names.”

He smirked, a little deeper and crueller than he usually did. Not with malice, exactly, but definitely dark amusement. “But _you_ \- boy, you ruined her _life_ , and narcissists have a long memory for that stuff. If anyone can get her riled up enough to spill something important, it’s you.” He was clearly relishing the thought.

“I just feel like I need a shower after being in the same room as her.” Judy shivered in anticipation. “She’s a monster. After what she did, she should be on trial for _terrorism_ , not just attempted murder.”

“She’s ninety percent wool, carrots. I’m pretty sure you could bench-press her.” The light on the other side of the interrogation chamber began to flash. “Just keep her talking. We both know she loves the sound of her own voice.”

A buzzer sounded. Across the room, a tiny sheep in an orange jumpsuit entered, escorted by a very large bear. She was definitely not as stylish as Judy remembered, but underneath the wardrobe, it was scary how little effect prison seemed to have on her. Her hooves were manacled, and as she sat down blithely in one chair, the officer fed the chain through a metal loop underneath the table and locked it in place.

“I expected more ink,” Nick remarked jovially, though quietly enough that she couldn’t hear. “Maybe some teardrops around one eye. Or a Prey Brotherhood tattoo.”

“Don’t even joke about that. She’s enough of a fascist as it is.” Judy didn’t know what, but something about watching this whole spectacle was having an effect on her. Her paws were shaking slightly where they gripped the cage; she closed her eyes and forced herself to focus.

A warm, heavy paw found her arm. “I can be in there with you,” he said softly, massaging her shoulder blade. “If that’s what you want.”

“No.” Judy stiffened and took a deep breath. “Interrogation techniques are more effective one-on-one. I can do this, Nick.”

“Any time she makes you uncomfortable-”

“No. Never. She doesn’t get to make me feel anything but disgust ever again.”

Satisfied that Bellwether was sufficiently restrained, the bear officer approached the cage. “When you’re ready to begin, step forward to the wire door,” he intoned. “The doors will lock automatically behind you. I will be directly on the other side; the door will _not_ open again until you are ready to leave and all inmates are restrained. In the event of an emergency, remain calm and move toward the exit door. Physical contact is strictly prohibited, and we ask that you be aware of yourself and the inmate at all times. Eating, drinking, and smoking are prohibited at all times. Do you have any questions?”

Judy took a step forward. “Does she have to be chained to the table? She’s not dangerous.”

The bear opened the door. A buzzer sounded, and he motioned her through. “Standards procedures, ma’am,” he repeated, disappearing inside the cage with Nick. Another click, another buzzer, and the light turned green. “And speak for yourself, ma’am.”

 _Right,_ Judy told herself. _Predator species._ _Probably not fond of Bellwether._ It was just the two of them now, alone in the cell. She looked up to find the sheep staring at her, smiling happily from across the table.

“Judy Hopps,” she cooed, her voice cracking slightly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

She’d expected - cursing, silence, anger. Judy had no idea how it was possible, but Bellwether sounded exactly the same. Not a note in her voice had changed tone or inflection; if she closed her eyes, Judy could have convinced herself that they were back at the mayor’s office again.

She made herself walk robotically forward and sit down. “Dawn,” she answered cordially. “How are you doing?”

“Good! I thought I was having a bad day, but when I saw you here, I realized that there must be some part of my life you haven’t destroyed yet.”

Never once did her smile waver. She clasped her hooves professionally in front of her, shackles clinking on the table. “But you didn’t come here to ask how I am, did you Judy? You only came to see me because you’re desperate.”

Judy sighed. _Do not let her read you._ “You can cut the act, Dawn. There’s no need to act like you don’t hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t _hate_ you, Judy!” She blinked in surprise. “I’m just disappointed in you. You and I should still be on the same side.”

“You tried to make Nick _eat_ me.”

“What else could I do? Your fault for shacking up with a homeless fox in the first place.” She nodded at the door. “Tell him not to worry, will you? Even if I didn’t know he was hiding back there, I could smell him on you the moment you walked in.”

 _“Dane Civet,”_ Judy said loudly, trying to keep blood from rushing to her face. “You knew him. You worked with him.”

“I’m not mourning him, if that’s what you’re asking.” She smiled placidly. “I still watch the news, Judy. I wish I’d been the one to plan it, but… _c’est la vie_. The only downside to what happened was that no one posted a video on ZooTube.”

Judy snorted. “Oh no. I bet you two got along _great_ while you were in office, didn’t you?”

For a moment, Bellwether hesitated. “He was a stupid, degenerate crook with a stomach bigger than his brain, but he could incriminate half his party if he wanted to. He was a useful ally.”

“Did you ever fund any of his projects under the table?”

Bellwether tilted her head slightly. “And… why should I tell you any of this? I’m already facing fifty years, Hopps. What reason do I have to talk?”

“Spite,” Judy suggested. “Do it because we both know that if it were him in your shoes, he’d squeal on you in an instant. What have you got to lose by cooperating?”

She actually laughed at that. “Judy! Well, it certainly is tempting, but… no. I’m still here, while Dane Civet’s fat is crackling in hell. I think I’ve already won this one. No need for spite.”

“Well-”

“Take the hint, Judy. I’m done talking to you.”

Slowly, Judy stood up and turned around. _Keep walking,_ she told herself, moving toward the door. _Let her think she’s won._

“Of course,” she announced once she’d made it to the door, “there is one problem with that.”

_One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mis-_

“And what’s that?” asked Bellwether, cautiously.

Judy turned around and smiled as politely as she could in Bellwether’s face. “He’s not dead.”

The hurricane of emotions that ran over Bellwether’s face as enough to bring a real smile to Judy’s face. In the space of about three seconds, her face ran the gamut from shock to outrage to blasphemous fury. _I hope we got this on camera for Nick._

“You mean to tell me,” Bellwether said, her voice still placid, but wavering now, “that someone finally got the balls to shoot that aardwolf - and he somehow _survived?_ ”

“Three bullets to the chest,” Judy chirped. “He should’ve been dead at least twice. The doctors are saying it was a miracle.” That was a lie, but Bellwether didn’t need to know that; she looked to be on the edge of mental breakdown as it was. _Good. Push her over._

“Of course,” she said, taking Bellwether’s outraged silence as an invitation to skip back to her chair and sit, “he’s been in critical condition the past couple of days. He could die at any moment.” She let the ewe take a breath. “ _Or_ , he could make a full recovery. In which case he’ll go right back to his job, since there’s no evidence of him committing any crime, while you - well, you’re going to be stuck in here for the rest of your life, aren’t you?”

Bellwether slammed her shackles down on the table. “That _bastard!”_ she wailed. “That old _prick_ , leached twenty years off my life but can’t even _die_ when he’s supposed to! I get to rot in this hole while he sits on his fat backside with his stupid _mayor_ -”

Her tantrum lapsed into unprintable obscenities as she mercilessly kicked and beat the table beneath her. “Face it, Dawn,” Judy suggested, trying not to take pleasure in this spectacle. “He’s just smarter than you are, I guess.”

“He is _nothing!_ That fleabitten clown would be _panhandling_ with his whole worthless party in his broke-down little _ghetto_ if I hadn’t done everything for him!”

Judy shook her head. “I don’t know, Dawn. Seems to me like he was doing most of the work between the two of you.”

She was barely even listening to Judy anymore. “ Everything I broke my back doing! Putting up with his _smoking_ and his _flirting_ and his _begging for money_ \- how much fucking money did I give him to fix his million stupid little problems! Meanwhile I was fighting fires left and right ever since I became assistant mayor! Like I was ever going to give that backstabbing bastard my leftovers!”

She grinned, breathing heavily. “Who’s the smarter one now, huh? Who’d I put in charge after I got rid of that goddamn lion? Shep Sanders. I wish I’d seen the look on his face. He and his whole stupid bipartisan coalition can go to hell; I have the whole ZPP _and_ the sheep vote, so he and his party can eat it!”

Judy steepled her paws in front of her. “So Dane wanted your old job? That was it?”

“Of course he did! Assistant Mayor Dane Civet, that was all that stupid geriatric blowhard ever talked about - that and all the money I had to skim to keep him and his million projects afloat! I hate Little Amur! It was the happiest day of my life when the City Council finally voted to restore that sinkhole of a neighborhood so I could stop hearing about it every five minutes!”

Judy blinked. “The City Council _approved_ the plan to restore Little Amur?”

“Only after wasting half my life!” Bellwether seethed.

“So the money _was_ legal,” Judy reasoned. She’d heard enough. “Thank you, Dawn,” she said, standing up. “I think I’ve heard enough. You’ve been more than helpful.”

The ewe blinked at her. “What?”

“I was just hoping to learn if there was anything suspicious going on with the money for Little Amur,” Judy explained casually. “I didn’t think you’d confess to embezzling funds from the Zootopia People’s Party. _Or_ that those funds were for Dane Civet’s slush fund. I’m sure both of those things will be very interesting to your jury. Thank you _very_ much.”

It was a challenge not to say it. _It’s called a hustle, sweetheart._ Still, Judy figured she’d tortured Bellwether enough. She strode over to the door and raised a paw when she heard Bellwether mutter.

“Glad.”

Judy stopped short. Despite her better instincts, she turned around. “Sorry?”

For a moment, Bellwether stared at the floor. When she looked back up again, it was as though she’d never been angry at all.

“I’m glad you found a cure,” she said, sounding as chipper as ever. “For the Night Howlers.”

Judy’s skin was crawling again. “Okay,” she said, turning to go again.

“I _want_ him to remember.” Bellwether’s tone never wavered, never changed. Judy could still hear the sunshine in her voice. “Your _friend_ . The fox. When he’s finished with you, I want him cured. I want him to _understand_ what he’s done. I want to see his face when he realizes it’s your blood on his clothes.”

She continued to smile airily as the buzzer sounded and the doors opened. “Goodbye, Judy. I’ll be seeing you both soon, okay?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Mrs. Civet?”

“Who’s asking?”

“ZPD, ma’am. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband.”

Rain poured down in cold sheets in Tundratown. The streets ran gray with melted snow. Two large figures lurked in the doorway of the house, shivering. Before them, one paw still on the door, stood an aardwolf in a sweater and paint-stained jeans.

“It’s Duvalier.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not Rene Civet anymore. My maiden name is Duvalier.”

Wolfard and Jackson looked at each other. “Are you divorced or-”

“Taking some time apart.” Rene adjusted her glasses. She was not a small woman, and her face wore a permanent inscrutable expression. She wore her hair back in a bleached bun. “Don’t expect to get back together.”

“May we come inside, ma’am?”

“That would be giving my consent to search the property, so no.”

“But it _is_ alright if we ask you a few questions?”

“I’m taking my nephew to a class in twenty minutes and I don’t plan to be detained.”

“I’ll just take a moment.”

“I don’t know who shot him, if that’s what you’re after.”

“No, ma’am. We didn’t think you did.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Do you have any idea who might have?”

“I could give you my address book. That should give you a few dozen names.”

Wolfard pulled a pad and pen from his pocket with fumbling paws. “Could you give us some basic information about what your husband was doing before he was shot?”

“Such as?”

“People he was seeing, places he was going, anything odd or different - if he seemed to have anything on his mind…”

“The usual suspects.” She furrowed her brow. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’re - you were his wife, Ms. Duvalier. If anyone would know his movements-”

“You’re doing this backwards. Did you already ask her?”

Wolfard and Jackson exchanged another look. “Who, ma’am?”

Rene Duvalier snorted. She turned her nose up at the both of them with a hard, unforgiving expression on her face. “His _woman_.”


	8. Bunnies in Uniform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too Much Information: The Musical

“So now we know that Civet was way more corrupt than we thought,” Nick reasoned.

“Yup.”

“But the money trail’s a dead end.” Nick scratched behind his ear, thinking. “I dunno, carrots, I’m thinking we should start talking to the ZPP. If they knew Bellwether was embezzling funds for Civet, I can’t imagine they’d be particularly happy about it.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“At least we’ve got something to bring to court if Civet somehow recovers.  Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll just wake up and tell us what happened.”

Inside the bathroom stall, Judy made a noise that could have been agreement or another dry heave. She’d been in there for five minutes now. Nick leaned calmly up against the brick wall and waited. A tall doe in a guard’s uniform stepped inside the ladies’ room and paused when she saw Nick. He just held up his badge and waved her along.

“Why do you think she was skimming for a guy like that?” he mused. “What’s her angle?”

The deer looked up at him, startled. “What?”

“Not you, lady. Judy, you wanna come out of there?”

“Mmm.”

Nick didn’t blame her. While she didn’t give him the urge to throw up, that ewe disturbed him on a level that few mammals could reach. The yelling was one thing, but when she got quiet and her voice took on that falsetto, all of Nick’s instincts began screaming at him to run. And  _ he  _ was only a bystander; she had some seriously unhealthy fixation with Judy. He hoped they had her seeing a psychiatrist, and at the same time pitied whichever poor doctor had that job.

Nick was torn -  _ Should I ask? Does she even want to talk about it? I wouldn’t, but Judy’s all about feelings, right? Is it more sensitive NOT to ask? _

He rapped on the door. “C’mon, Hopps. It’s alright, she’s back in her padded cell. We can go back to talking to  _ normal  _ murderers and rapists.”

Behind the door, she hacked a couple more times and emerged, wiping her mouth. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t let her… get to me.”

Nick bit his lip. This was virgin territory, and he wasn’t sure how to handle this one.  _ Kid gloves here, Nick.  _ “You need a minute, or-”

“I had a minute.” She straightened back up and brushed herself down. “Let’s get moving. I’ll feel better somewhere else.”

It had started to rain outside. Judy set the cruiser idling, but didn’t touch the wheel. “You’re right,” she muttered. “Why would Bellwether embezzle funds for Civet? They were from opposing parties.”

“She was rambling about a bipartisan coalition-”

“Nick, she was already mayor. What did she need bipartisan support for? And when’s the last time you’ve  _ ever  _ known a politician to really care about bipartisanship?”

He blinked. “Damn, Judy. Haven’t you seen a buddy cop movie before? I’m supposed to be the cynical one.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s the truth, Nick. I’m an optimist, not an idiot.”

“And the difference is…” She smacked him. “Alright, fine. So thinking like a politician-”

“He had something on her.” She glanced up at him. “Right? What other reason could she have for giving him money unless he had dirt on something she was doing?”

“The night howlers?”

“No… no, that doesn’t seem like Civet’s style.” She frowned. “His whole shtick was protecting the deer neighborhoods from predators, right? But he was a carnivore. If predators suddenly started going savage, his voters might have ditched him for a prey candidate.”

“Insectivore, Judy,” he reminded her. “Big difference.”

“Not to the racists who voted for him. C’mon, Nick, do you really think they saw him as much better than the tigers? They were only voting for him as the lesser evil; if they thought he’d try to eat them-”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. He was corrupt, not stupid; there was no reason for him to gamble his job on the night howlers plan.”

“Which means he probably didn’t know.” Judy rubbed her temples. “I don’t even want to imagine what else that lunatic was involved in, but - he must have had something to blackmail her with, right?”

Nick’s phone was buzzing. He picked it up and tapped a paw against the screen. “It’s from Wolfard.”

“What’s he want?”

“Our help. He’s got a lead, but he and Jackson are tied up grilling Civet’s family. It’s an address.”

“Pull it up on Zoogle Maps.” Judy released the brake and began backing out of the parking space. “Did he say who it was?”

Nick couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his face. “Yep. It wasn’t just his party Civet was cheating on.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Water sloshed over the curbs in Tundratown. Hispid Row was a single lane of tall, narrow condominiums in gray brick, every one looking more cheaply built than the last. Vacant window watched like sightless eyes as they climbed out of the car and made a run for the awnings.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two - twenty-three. She’s in 23C?” Judy opened the front door and led Nick up the dingy staircase. “Did Wolfard give her name?”

“Natasha something. But she goes by-” Nick glanced down at his phone and couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Misty,” he cackled, holding it up for her to see. “She’s calling herself  _ Misty _ .”

“Nick, be professional.”

“I mean, it’s better than Candy or Bubbles, but still.” He glanced around at the shoddy wood paneling and faded wallpaper. A light covered in dead gnats buzzed overhead. “I didn’t think prey could  _ get  _ this poor.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “Nick, I invite you to visit Bunnyburrow sometime if you think having a million children is cheap.”

23C lay at the farthest end of the hallway, beside a window aimed right at a brick wall. Judy pounded at the door. On the other side, an impossibly sultry voice that smelled of cigarettes called back.  _ “Alright, alright! Keep your pants on for one more minute!” _

“Oh,  _ eww _ ,” Judy sighed. “Can’t we have one case that doesn’t involve sex?”

“If you’re uncomfortable, carrots, I’d be happy to-”

“Oh you  _ wish _ . C’mon, Nick, you’re not seriously into-”

The door opened and Judy came face to face with a lot of cleavage. Standing in the doorway, wearing a miniskirt and a shirt unbuttoned so low that it verged on sexual harassment, stood an arctic hare batting her lashes at them. She carried a highball in one paw and a mascara brush in the other.

“-rabbits,” Judy finished weakly.

“Miss Misty Canyons?” Nick asked. Even he hadn’t expected himself to keep a straight face.

The hare paused, midway through the act of primping her fur. “You’re - police,” she finished lamely.

“Not who you were expecting, ma’am?”

She put a paw on her hips and stared back defiantly. “No, matter of fact. Can I help you two, or are you gonna be going?”

“We heard that an aardwolf named Dane Civet used to come by here?” Judy asked, finding her voice. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. Goodbye now.”

She moved to shut the door, but Nick stuck his foot in the crack. “You want to talk to us, ma’am. Because otherwise, we might have to get a warrant, and this looks awfully like prostitution to me.”

That made her laugh, and not in the genial way. “Nice try, fox. I’m an  _ escort _ . Law says it’s not illegal for a man to pay me for my company.”

Nick snorted. “Oh, I see. They’re only paying to take you to dinner. The sex afterward is just for fun.”

“Yeah, well, unless you can prove it isn’t, you got nothing.”

“The real question is whether you can afford an inquiry, legal or not.” She stopped trying to slam the door shut and looked up at him with hard eyes. “Dane Civet was a public figure, after all. If any of your clients are like him, they might not be too eager to have the police snooping around.”

Misty rolled her eyes and began furiously buttoning up her shirt. “Five minutes,” she warned them. “Talk fast or get out of my face.”

Judy gave Nick a nod of approval. He smiled back.  _ It’s not everyday the world’s foremost bunny cop gives you her seal of approval.  _

“You knew Dane Civet?” Judy asked.

“Course.” She glanced Judy up and down appraisingly. “Nice cop outfit. You know, I got one just like it Dane liked-”

Nick’s grin widened even further. He could almost smell his partner’s humiliation. “Ma’am, as a policewoman, I’ve never said this before, but I’m going to need you to give me as  _ few  _ details as possible. Do you know who wanted him shot?”

“Most mammals. That help?”

Judy pulled out her notebook and pen. “Did he ever mention anything about his job? Any problems he was having at work or home?”

Misty shook her head. “Most johns won’t shut the fuck up about the office or the wife. Dane, though, he had a ‘loose lips’ policy. Never mentioned the job. I never cared to ask.”

She tapped the pen against the pad in frustration. “Well, what  _ did  _ he talk about?”

“We didn’t  _ talk _ , numbnuts. He came over once or twice a week to screw, what the fuck do you think?”

Judy made a repressed little noise between a groan and a scream of frustration. Nick thought it best to intervene before this crossed the line from funny to violent. “Did he ever do anything when he was over  _ besides  _ have intercourse with you?”

“Smoke. Drink, sometimes. And he was always on his fucking phone.” She shook her head. “Got to where I’d have to turn it off and shove it in a drawer before we got down to business. Otherwise I’d wake up in the middle of the night and have him ranting in my kitchen.”

Judy’s ears perked up. “Ranting? At who?”

“I dunno. Probably his wife. I don’t ask questions, remember?”

“Do you remember anything he said?”

“Nothing in particular. Other than that he was always pissed. Once or twice he’d come in schlitzed, we’d fuck, and then he’d go in the other room and start yelling. The more wasted he was, the more pissed he got at whoever it was. Eventually I got a noise complaint and told him to keep it the fuck down after that.” She pretended to look down at her watch. “Aaaand, look at that, your five minutes are up. Now are you two gonna leave me in peace?”

Nick got the distinct impression that she wasn’t going to be much more help. “I think we’ve gotten what we needed. You’ve been a great-”

The door slammed an inch in front of his nose before he could even finish his sentence. A second later, he heard the bolt slam in the door. “She seemed pleasant.”

Judy grit her teeth. “I can imagine why that old creep liked her so much.”

He couldn’t help it; that smirk came bubbling back up again. “Seems Mister Civet has a thing for bunnies,” he remarked as they started back down the stairs. “Bunnies who own police uniforms…”

“No.” She stabbed a single finger in his direction. “You do  _ not  _ have permission to be amused by this.”

He really shouldn’t have been, but Nick had to admit, it was funny. He watched Judy storm down the stairs ahead of him in her form-fitting police blues.  _ Can’t blame the old hyena,  _ he thought for a second, his eyes drifting unconsciously to her backside.  _ Nobody makes that uniform look good but her. _ Then he shook himself.  _ Keep it professional, Nick. She’s your partner. _

“Angry phone calls, huh?” he suggested, following her. “Sounds like we should tell Jackson to pull phone records.”

“Bet he already has.” She glanced back over her paltry notes. “You said they were interviewing Civet’s family? If his wife could tell us what times he was out of the house…”

“We could probably figure out which calls were made from his mistress’ place,” Nick finished for her. “Clever bunny. Lemme text him.”

“Nick?”

“Hmmm?”

“What… are you doing tonight?”

He stopped short midway through his text. His claw strayed too long on the phone, turning the text into a long string of E’s. He hurriedly backspaced. “Tonight?”  _ Dammit, you let her trip you up that easily? _

“Yeah.” she pawed at one of her ears. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, and the last thing I want to do is deal with neighbors, so…” she waved her paw in a roundabout  _ et cetera, et cetera  _ sort of gesture.

“You want to crash at my place?” Was she interested in him? _Holy shit, was Wolfard right? Wolfard actually knows something? I mean, he’s been married twice - does that make him more or less knowledgeable?_ _Dammit, Nick, don’t start hyperventilating. She just asked to sleep on your couch, not go down on you. You DID offer._

Nick had never given any thought to mating outside his species.  _ I do not have a bunny fetish. _ He was not friends with Judy because she had a fantastic ass; that was entirely incidental to the fact that she was the kindest, cleverest, most encouraging mammal he’d ever met.  _ But it’s probably not fair to say I’m in love with her, right? I just check her out sometimes; I’m a guy. And she’s just interesting to talk to. And I just like to make her laugh more than most people. And I like having her around, and I sometimes make excuses to get her to stay the night. And... _

And it dawned on him that he was running out of reasons to say no.

“I was thinking we’d brainstorm,” she hastily corrected herself. “Maybe get takeout, y’know. I can see myself home-”

She’d knocked him off balance, but he’d be damned if he was going to meet this challenge with anything but the level of suave sophistication that the name Nick Wilde had come to represent. At least, that it had come to represent in his mind. “Judy, I seem to remember telling you that you were welcome to sleep at my place anytime.”

“I wasn’t - I just didn’t want to invite myself.” She waved him off. “I’ll catch the metro back, don’t worry about it.”

Nick shook his head. “You can stay over. But you’re paying for takeout this time, deal?”

Judy Hopps might have been a hell of a cop, but playing mammals was what Nick did, and she was easier than most. The trick to Judy was that you couldn’t hold her paw too much. Nick could’ve offered to pay for dinner and let her sleep over, and it would’ve only confirmed to her that she was taking advantage of him. If she felt bashful about it, she’d refuse. The only way she’d agree to spend the night now was if she felt like her partner was getting a fair deal.

Sure enough, she nodded, looking relieved. “Alright, slick. I’ll call in for pizza, you tell Jackson to send us a copy of the phone records as soon as they get them.”

“Yeah, nice to have our first case where the ZPD is actually on our side.”

Her whiskers twitched, foot thumping gently on the ground. “Nick, do you think we’re out of line? I mean, it’s not our case, and both of them know what they’re doing...”

“They wanted our help, didn’t they? And… listen, I’m not paranoid, but it’s not  _ impossible  _ that Bogo’s right. About the whole…” he searched for a nice way to put it. “About this having something to do with us.”

She nodded. “In which case, I’d rather be in the know.”

“Hey, Judy?”

“Yeah?”

“What… was it about Bellwether that freaked you out so badly?”

She didn’t say anything for a whole minute. When she finally did speak, it was with the halting, hesitant tone of someone jumping from syllable to syllable without a plan.

“Nick, I was thinking about… the speech you gave me, about how you’re glad to know me. And I feel the same! And… I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, but it’s probably fair to say that you’re the most important person in my life right now.” She swallowed. “And I feel terrible that I can’t tell you everything, but right now, I’m just - I’m really not-”

“Stop.” He planted a paw on her shoulder. “All you have to say is no, carrots. I get it. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“I know. Thanks, Nick.” She cleared her throat and put on a very purposeful smile. “So! Shall we get to work?”

The time was was seven-thirty in the evening. They were back at Nick’s by eight; the pizza was gone by nine. By eleven o’clock, they were both asleep on the couch.

At five-forty the next morning, Bogo called Nick’s cell phone, demanding to know what had happened to Judy.


	9. What Happened to Hopps?

Three cruisers were parked on the curb in front of Judy’s apartment building, and by the time they arrived, Judy was sure that the lights had woken the entire neighborhood. It looked like half of the precinct was there. Officers Judy had never even seen before were stopping mammals at the door.

Nick looked nervously at the commotion. “You know something, Judy? Maybe it’s time to move.”

Judy popped open the glovebox and attached her pitiful little holster to her hip. “C’mon. We can’t keep them waiting.”

Rhinowitz was waiting for them at the door. As they approached, Judy saw his shoulders visibly slump with relief. “Chief,” he rumbled, pressing the mic on his lapel, “she’s alive. Wilde’s got her.”

Judy started to ask what he was talking about, but he just gestured her inside. It felt like she was climbing the stairs in a dream. Oddly enough, the first thing she noticed was that, despite the police presence, it felt oddly quiet in the building.  _ Bucky. Pronk. They’re not arguing again.  _ Everything set those two off; why hadn’t the police investigation? Apprehensively, she pushed open the door to the second floor.

“Sweet cheese and crackers,” she breathed.

The door to her apartment, and a good piece of the splintered door jamb, were lying in the hall. Across the hallway, where the floor met the trim, was a sizable bloodstain. She raised her eyes and found Jackson, Wolfard, and Bogo staring wordlessly at her.

“What happened here?”

Wolfard cleared his throat. “Looks like a botched home invasion. Your neighbors heard the noise and called the ZPD. We found the place like this.”

“Is that  _ blood? _ ”

Jackson swallowed. “One of your neighbors heard a commotion and came to… investigate. Whoever it was met him in the hallway.”

The bottom dropped out of Judy’s stomach. She felt Nick’s paw squeeze her shoulder. “Oh God  _ no… _ ”

“He’s in intensive care last we saw,” Jackson immediately clarified. “He was alive when the EMTs got to him, but - it wasn’t pretty. Whoever did this worked him over like an animal.”

“His husband never got a good look at the guy,” Bogo growled. “Wilde. Officer Hopps was staying over at your apartment when I called?”

Judy felt his paw evaporate from its place on her shoulder. “Chief, uh, listen, we were just working on-“

“I don’t give two shits, Wilde.” He leveled a sausage finger at her partner. “You do  _ not  _ let her out of your sight. Hopps -  _ Judy,  _ if you prefer, the ZPD has dorms…”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted. She walked past Jackson and Wolfard - the latter of whom was giving Nick a particularly incredulous look - carefully treaded around the stain on the floor, and examined the door. “That lock was busted, chief. The deadbolt was the only thing that worked. Who could’ve…”

“They didn’t bother with the deadbolt,” Wolfard told her bluntly. He held out a twisted metal spike in his paw. “Half-inch screws. Shitty contracting. Whoever broke in just went right through the hinges.” He pointed with a claw to a divot in the doorframe where the deadbolt had ripped its way out with the rest of the door.

“How strong would they have to be?” Nick piped up. “Someone my size couldn’t do this.”

“Any decent-sized ungulate could’ve,” Jackson suggested. “A strong hoof could’ve taken this thing right off, but this person was careful. Used a crowbar or a hammer on the hinges.” He gestured morosely to the stain. “And probably on him. We can’t find a hoofprint.”

_ “How big?” _ Bogo grunted.

“Just a guess? Eight, ten stone and up. If we get the autop-” He caught the look on Judy’s face and corrected himself. “If we get an injury report off the neighbor, we might get an idea of what size we’re looking at.”

_ The neighbor. _ He sounded so clinical, so detached when he said it.  _ And why shouldn’t he? This is what he does _ . Judy reminded herself that she was at a crime scene.  _ I can’t get emotionally involved. This is just another day on the job. I’ve seen this happen to other mammals all the time; keep it together. _

Trying not to move any of the splinters that now comprised a crime scene, she picked her way over the threshold and turned on the light. Her possessions were largely on the floor, but aside from a pictureframe that had fallen to pieces, there was nothing missing. Her bed was undisturbed, and the window was still closed.

“I still can’t believe you live in this dump,” Nick muttered, following her in. “Thoughts, officer?”

“They didn’t steal anything.” She shook her head. “Not that it proves anything, there was nothing in here worth stealing. I don’t even own jewelry.”

“You think this was just a robbery?”

“Bogo sure doesn’t.” She made another slow circuit of the room, looking for anything out of place. “Didn’t even touch my phone charger.”  _ C’mon, Judy think. How would you handle this if it were someone else’s place? _ “Jackson, have you done a preliminary analysis?”

“Course.”

“Show me what you’ve got?”

The tiger cleared his throat and felt the doorframe. “No marks around the doorknob; the suspect started with the hinges. I’d have used a crowbar, but anything with decent leverage could’ve done it, even a chisel. Pretty violent entry, he probably figured he’d be in and out before anyone saw him - which tells me he knew you were out, because he clearly wasn’t worried about waking you.”

“Or maybe he didn’t care if he did,” Wolfard added darkly.

Jackson shot him a look and stepped through. “Lights were off inside, and the suspect left in a hurry, so I don’t think he ever turned them on-”

“Why go through the door, though?” Nick interrupted. “Anyone could’ve seen him. There’s a fire escape right outside the window, why not that?”

Without speaking, Jackson walked over to the window and cranked it open. “This is why.” He grabbed the bar of the fire escape and gave it a good shake, filling the air with a godawful wailing of rusted metal scraping brick. “He would’ve had to either break the window or pry it. Either way, the noise would’ve woken a deaf elephant.”

“Ripping the door off its hinges was quieter?”

“Slightly. Like I said, in and out.” Jackson turned in a slow circle. “Anyway, he turned the room over, realized there was nothing he could fence, and ran for it. Except by that point, he’d drawn attention to himself. He ran out that door, right into your neighbor, and…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Wolfard mimed clubbing an antelope with a crowbar.

The thought was starting to make Judy sick. She took a step closer to the open window in the hopes that the cold air would restart her brain. “My neighbor,” she repeated, head churning. “Bucky or Pronk?”

“First one.”

“Neither of them are exactly short, Sher.” She turned around. “Did you see the wound?”

“Skull fracture,” Wolfard opined. “They weren’t fucking around. Either they were trying to kill him, or just didn’t care if he died.”

“So we’re looking at a mammal, at least eight stone, with the reach to brain a full-grown antelope,” Nick summarized.

“It was no accident,” Bogo growled. “This was not a botched home invasion. They were targeting a ZPD officer.”

Jackson cleared his throat weakly. “Chief, uh, not to contradict you-”

“They  _ knew  _ she wouldn’t be home, Officer!”

The tiger wilted under the water buffalo’s accusing stare. “Chief, with respect, you’re getting a little… worked up. It’s not uncommon for a burglar to case their target; they might’ve been watching her place and realized that she wasn’t home.”

“Or they didn’t think it through,” Wolfard agreed. “The entry wasn’t subtle. What’s more likely - that we’re dealing with a consummate professional, or some crackhead who just turned over the first apartment he saw for something to pawn?”

_ “Officers,”  _ Judy said loudly, stymieing them all. “Whatever it was, I’m fine. Bullet dodged.” She didn’t add,  _ And either way, if I’d been home, I’d probably be… _ “What matters now is what we do next. Do we have any suspects.”

The buffalo, the tiger, and the wolf all exchanged uncomfortable glances. “We do,” Jackson finally told her. “You’re not going to like it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“One shooting wasn’t enough for you, was it? You wanted to see what you could get away with?”

Jamal Nimr sat at the table, his paws in cuffs. His shirt was torn, and his cheek had a fresh, gravel-induced cut on it. But the difference of a couple days ran deeper than the aesthetic changes; now, the only thing he shared with the Jamal Nimr of two days ago was the pattern of his stripes.

“Officer,” he said in a small, cracking voice. “Ma’am, I didn’t know-”

A hoof loudly pounded the table before him, making him flinch. He cast his eyes down from the curly-horned addax in a crisp uniform that stood before him. Though it would have been a generous guess to call her half his size, the difference in attitude made her tower over him.

“I’ve had about enough of your  _ bullshit _ , son,” she growled. “You think your friends are gonna be  _ loyal  _ after what you did? You got one chance, boy, and that’s to sell them upriver before they sell you.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything!” he pleaded. “Trey was drunk, he was out of control-”

“Yeah, kiddo, I got  _ your  _ sobriety tests on my desk too. And guess what: you’re eighteen years old. So not only is  _ any _ amount of alcohol in your blood illegal, but we get to try you as an adult.” 

She lowered her snout to glare directly into his eyes. “Look at me. Hey. I said look at me. That make you feel more talkative?”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” He was almost hyperventilating. “I wasn’t drunk, I just got dragged along-”

“Lemme tell you how  _ I  _ picture this happening, Jamal. You got out of that meeting, pissed at the world, so you and your friends stole a few beers, you got yourself schlitzed, and you decided to do something about Civet yourself.”

“I didn’t-”

“And then, when you sobered up, did you feel bad about it?” She grimaced. “No, you felt like a big man, didn’t you? You wanted to be a thug, huh? So you went out and decided to knock over a convenience store to keep riding that high. Thought you could test your limits, huh? Well guess what, boy, end of the line.”

Across the mirror, Judy, Nick, and Bogo watched with mute attention. The interrogation rooms in Savannah Central’s precinct were much smaller than the ones at Central, but Nick couldn’t help but feel as though he were watching a rerun of downtown.

“Okay, am I missing something?” he finally spoke up. “Or did we already get this guy?”

“We did,” Bogo growled. “Don’t mouth off to me,  _ Officer Wilde _ . We cut him loose with a warning.” His mouth tightened. “He got picked up again.”

Judy watched the addax work over the tiger without speaking. Something about the spectacle robbed her of any ability to look away. “Chief,” she hissed, “look at him. The kid’s about to throw up. This isn’t a killer.”

“If everyone would stop presuming that  _ I’m not on their side _ ,” the chief grunted, “I would appreciate it.”

“Well, what did he even do?” Nick demanded. “Don’t we have better suspects than a kid who stole another six-pack?”

“Nimr was picked up as an accomplice to armed robbery, Wilde. He and two friends were caught trying to hold up a convenience store. Of course he claims that we was just the driver, that he was dragged into it, afraid for his life… the usual excuses. None of which change the fact that he was an accessory to a very serious crime.”

“So he has to be the murderer, then? Has one even asked  _ why  _ City Hall is so dead-set on this dumb teenager being their assassin?” Nick demanded, feeling his hackles raise. “I’m sorry, doesn’t it strike anyone as a little bigoted that we’ve accused the same tiger twice.”

Bogo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “His friends were using box cutters and switchblades as weapons. So far, he didn’t have a weapon that connects him to the crime…”

“Exactly!” Nick crowed. But his look of triumph didn’t last long in the face of Bogo’s solemn expression. “Wait, tell me there’s not a second half to that sentence.”

The chief sighed. “ _ But _ , a loaded revolver was found in the glove compartment of his friend’s car. The car Jamal Nimr was driving.”

Nick resisted the urge to slam his head into the two-way mirror.  _ Why? Why do these stupid kids always have to make everything difficult? _ “Okay. Can’t we handle this ourselves?”

“I would prefer that, Wilde, but City Hall is on my back here. Turn on ZNN; they’re calling it an ‘epidemic’ of gun violence. The mayor’s office is talking about SWAT crackdowns on smuggling. They’re insistent that Savannah Central handle this themselves.”

Nick glanced into the interrogation cell again. The addax continued to pace circles around the tiger, who now held his forehead in his paws. “I can guess why.”

“They claim they want this in the paws of officers with  _ proven track records _ .”

“Chief,” Judy interrupted, “I live in a glass house too, but… doesn’t it seem a little… one-sided, to let Officer Lansdowne handle this?”

It was an open secret that Savannah Central tended to turn over higher conviction and confession rates than most other precincts. Once you joined the force, you quickly learned why. Short of actual torture, there was no way to get an admission of guilt out of a mammal than by leaving him in a room with Officer Adelaide Lansdowne. Few seemed to care that a substantial percentage of her confessions tended to be overturned by DNA evidence or appeal. And if she seemed to get confessions from predators at disproportionately higher rates - well, she never  _ said  _ anything about predators in public, and the precinct would have a tough job explaining their decision to terminate a twelve-year officer based on suspicions of bias.

Nick had plea-bargained once or twice. He’d been guilty on at least one of those occasions, but still, he knew that confessing to a crime didn’t necessarily require committing it. But try telling that to some airheaded “tough on crime” politician. As far as the public was concerned, the more confessions the ZPD cranked out, the fewer criminals on the streets.

“This isn’t justice,” Judy argued. “I want this assassin caught, but-”

“But she’s going to bully three drunk petty criminals into turning on each other, and then engineer confessions,” Nick finished for her. “We’ve got to fight this one, chief. Pull your rank, or something.”

Bogo didn’t look at them. He, too, was watching the proceedings in the interrogation room. “Then you’ve got a job to do. Get me the real assassin, and we can try to plea-bargain Nimr into something reasonable.”

Judy’s ears perked up. “Does this mean-”

“You two are  _ support _ . I want you both in contact with Wolfard and Jackson at all times, but not out in the field where you can catch a bullet. Give them all the information you have, but I don’t want you going anywhere without backup. Clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for? The aardwolf isn’t getting any better. I’d like to know we have a plan for catching this lunatic that  _ doesn’t  _ revolve around him waking up and ID’ing the suspect for us.”

Dismissed, Nick and Judy made their way out of the office. It was a cloudless day in Savannah Central, predictably, and Nick quickly found himself regretting that he’d never evolved sweat glands. He tried not to walk on the boiling asphalt.

“My place again?”

Judy nodded. “If you don’t mind. He didn’t say it, but - well, I guess we’re both under house arrest for the rest of the day.”

“You want to talk?” Nick kicked himself for his bluntness, but he couldn’t think of another way to ask. “About, y’know…”

Judy took a deep breath. “No. Not really. I want to catch whoever did this.”

“It was your home, carrots. That’s a little fucked up. If you need some time to be a little fucked up too, I get it-”

Without warning, he felt her paws on his back. He hadn’t anticipated being hugged. Like so many things about that rabbit, it came out of nowhere and blindsided him. Caught off guard, it was a moment before it occurred to him to embrace her back. She pressed her body against his and he felt her skinny chest heave as she breathed in and slowly let it out. Then, when she’d finished, she stepped away.

“I’m okay, Nick.” She smiled up at him. It was a little weak, but she was trying. “Thanks for looking out for me, but… I’m fine.” 

She took a step back and brushed off her uniform, and it was as though nothing had happened. “Now, partner, shall we brainstorm?”

Nick to a second and tried to regain his professional composure.  _ Damn you, bunny. _ “You got any ideas?”

“No.” She unlocked the cruiser and held the door open for him. “But Jackson and Wolfard gave us a place to start.”

Sitting on the passenger’s seat was a manila envelope. Stuck to the front was a post-it note from Jackson, explaining in detail how much of a pain in the tail these had been to acquire, as well as exactly how much Nick and Judy owed them for this favor. Nick flipped it open and looked down at the stack of papers within.

“Is this-”

“Six weeks of Dane Civet’s phone records. Better get reading, Foxy Loxy.”


	10. We Get Where We're Going

_ //Call transcript _

_ //11 July 2016 _

_ //2:16 A.M. EST _

_ //Zootopia metropolitan area (404) _

_ //Our calls are logged for data collection purposes as detailed in our Terms and Conditions contract. To opt out of data collection, call our service line at 18005431990 and dial extension 333, or speak to a representative. _

 

_ 404 322 9261: Hello? _

**_404 991 1788: Donovan._ **

_ 404 322 9261: Fuck, Dane? Fuck me, is that you? [unintelligible] What’s the matter? _

**_404 991 1788: Donovan? Donovan. Good boy. [unintelligible] a fucking treat. You’re a fucking, a painting, you Mona Lisa, you know that?_ **

_ 404 322 9261: Dane, for God’s sake, you’re not making - fuck, it’s two in the morning! You’re not making sense. Is something wrong? _

**_404 991 1788: Is something wrong._ **

_ 404 322 9261: That’s what- _

**_404 991 1788: Like you fucking don’t know? You’re a - get the wool out of your eyes, Donovan. Was that expression made up just for sheep, cause it fucking describes you to a tee. Get the fucking wool out of your eyes, Don, wake the fuck up and look at the city._ **

_ 404 322 9261: Jesus Capybara, are you - are you drunk? What the hell’s your problem? You’re not supposed to call unless there’s an emergency. _

**_404 991 1788: Donovan. There’s always. An emergency._ **

_ 404 322 9261: What’s that supposed to - oh fuck me, is this about Cindy? Answer me, Dane, is this about that reporter? There’s no way she’s pressing charges- _

**_404 991 1788: No. I took care of it. Cleaned up your little spill._ **

_ 404 322 9261: She’s not pressing charges? You got the - you got her medical condition, that medical condition we were talking about, you got that taken care of? It’s not gonna come up again in eight months? _

**_404 991 1788: I’m fucking drunk, Donovan. And I’m still tight. Look at me. I’m keeping my fucking mouth shut on the phone. That dumb broad, that bird, even she knew enough to keep her mouth shut. More than a fucking ingrate like you. You looking at the city?_ **

_ 404 322 9261: Dane, what the shit did you call me for at this ungodly hour? _

**_404 991 1788: Look at the fucking city. Look at all this._ **

_ 404 322 9261: Dane- _

**_404 991 1788: I built this shit. I built this stupid fucking shit party [unintelligible] running it like a fucking [unintelligible]. Bunch of fucking morons you are. Death by inches, you fuck. Slow death by inches. That’s the way this party’s going. You’ve got the, the fucking prey in your pocket, ninety percent of Zoo-fucking-topia, and you still can’t win a [unintelligible]. Your party is dying, Don. It’s fucking dying. You know what I think? You know what I think of you?_ **

 

_ //Call terminated by recipient _

 

Judy picked up an empty takeout container and tossed it against the door. It bounced off it a pathetic noise.

Nick glanced up over the top of his sheaf of papers with a smirk. “Easy there, fluff. The neighbors might think someone’s being murdered in here.”

“Just once, Nick. Just once, I’d like to have a case that doesn’t destroy my faith in this whole freaking city.”

He tossed his papers down on the table and stretched out on the chair. “Yours as scummy as mine?”

“It’s like every clue is another jigsaw piece that makes Dane Civet look even more… freaking  _ deplorable  _ than I thought.” She massaged her aching eyes. It was already dark outside. “And you put them all together and the picture they make is complete crap.”

“Not going to argue with that.” He shook out another pile of papers and glanced it over. “Boy, someone got  _ cranky  _ after midnight. Y’know, I grew up in project housing, and even I don’t understand some of his, uh,  _ vocabulary _ .”

“This is… how can this be legal?” Judy fumed. “He’s got dirt on everyone in the Liberal Democrats!” She furiously mashed the keys on her laptop. “Donovan” was probably Donovan Alces, a city council rep, eleventh district. “Nothing! Nothing for this one either!”

“Did you cross-reference it with the ZPD database?”

“I tried!” She slammed her laptop closed. “Civet keeps getting to these mammals before they can file a police report, before any of their accusations get into the news, and he - I don’t know, bribes them, threatens them - and you never hear from them again! There’s no news articles, no files, nothing!”

Nick picked up his takeout box and examined the inside, as though hoping more food had materialized while he wasn’t looking. “A fixer.”

“What?”

“When I was… engaged in one of my business ventures…” Nick shook his head ruefully. “Aw, who’m I kidding, when I was working for Mr. Big, he hired some guys. Some of them were regular muscle, but a couple of them were fixers. Nice guys, at least on the surface, but real consigliere types.”

Judy furrowed her brow at him. “What types?”

“Have you seriously never seen  _ The Goatfather? _ ” He smirked. “Well, I know what we’re doing when this is over. Seriously though, a fixer is a sort of… problem solver for the bosses. They’re not thugs - you can’t call in a hitman for every little problem, it gets you noticed - so you call on a fixer, and he  _ convinces _ the problem to go away. My guess? Dane Civet was a fixer for the Lib-Dems. Explains why they’re up Bogo’s butt about this.”

“But that’s a mob boss, this is a political party!” Judy didn’t even give him a chance to make a smart remark. “Look at this: he’s covered up cheating, unwanted pregnancies, shady business deals, tax fraud, funny money, hate speech, a couple fights, what I  _ think  _ was a sexual assault-”

“Carrots,” Nick held up a paw. “Do you have any  _ proof? _ ”

She didn’t have to answer that. The contents of these phone records were damning enough to launch an inquiry - and certainly enough to cost the ZPD the support of Zootopia’s most powerful party for the rest of her life - but they weren’t going to turn this into a prison sentence, not with the kind of lawyers City Hall could afford. Civet was careful enough to preface every incriminating detail with “allegedly” or “supposedly.” Careful to make it sound as though he were only managing his party’s rumor mill, instead of silencing actual victims.

“It’s like code!” she groused. “He’s always careful enough not to say anything specific - like he keeps talking about this one guy’s habit, which makes me think substance abuse, but… nothing, no details!” She squinted at the paper. “And what’s floor polish got to do with this?”

“He says floor polish? Wow, he  _ is  _ old. I think my dad calls it that.” Nick caught Judy’s expression and coughed. “It means, uh, heroin, doc.”

Even with that little tidbit, there was still nothing conclusive. “We could bury half his party with these allegations. If we could get a second source on this…”

“Good luck getting any of the witnesses to admit to it. Civet’s whole job was to buy their silence.” He glanced over at her from his reading. “Is it too late to suggest that you seem… a little worked up over this?”

“These criminals,” Judy seethed, “are supposed to be role models. I’m sitting on evidence that proves the entire system is corrupt, and I can’t do  _ anything? _ ”

“Look,” he said soothingly. “Carrots. A guy I once voted for got caught in a crack house. Maybe I’m just desensitized to it, but this isn’t all that-”

“You remember that prostitution ring?” Judy interrupted. “The big one Fangmeyer and Delgato were involved in bringing down?”

“Yeah, Jude, we work in the same office. It was fucked up, I’m not arguing otherwise. Some of those girls were pretty much kids.”

“That was July, Nick. July ninth. And  _ here _ -” she slapped down a page of text on the table “is a phone call from one Representative Jermaine Brer to Dane Civet about keeping his, quote-unquote ‘lady friends’ out of the public eye until something blows over. He doesn’t say  _ what  _ they’re hoping will blow over, but the call? From July  _ tenth _ .”

Nick rubbed his forehead. “Is it really that surprising? Politicians and hookers-”

Judy slammed her paw down on the table. “Do you know what district Jermaine Brer is from, Nick? You know what area he represents?”

It was a full five seconds before it sank in for Nick. “No…”

“Fifteenth district. Bunnyburrow.” Judy felt her jaw clench. “My parents voted for that scumbag. And now I find out that he’s soliciting prostitutes - probably underage prostitutes - and getting off scot-free? Maybe  _ you  _ can be desensitized, Nick, but how do I look my mom and dad in the eye and tell them that?”

It was a full moment before she realized what she said. Her paw flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh. Nick, I didn’t-” 

“No. No, you’re right.” He shook his head. “Being cynical about it isn’t fixing anything.”

“I shouldn’t have said-”

“Judy, if I minded, I’ll let you know.” He cocked his head at her. “What’s eating you, anyway?”

“Nothing. She tried to ignore the blood rushing to her face. Just as she’d been trying to ignore the pheromones leeching from his fur for the last fifty minutes. A rabbit’s body came with a truly unforgiving cycle once every few months. Some leftover biological urges from the old days. It was one of the reasons living in a rabbit colony was so unbearable - someone was always on edge. And Nick never bothered putting on deodorant in his own apartment…

_ Quit it, Judy!  _ she scolded herself.  _ Nick doesn’t care if you’re horny tonight! _ The only problem was, her nose was telling her something very different. She didn’t know much about a fox’s mating habits - Judy had always abstained from the urge to look up those kinds of things - but she supposed it was just a matter of time before the stars aligned.  _ His nose is twice as good as mine. Oh God, what is he smelling on me right now? _

“Do we have anything else to write on the board?” she asked, changing the subject as hard as she could. “None of these people seemed like they had any reason to kill Civet. My theory is still his wife.”

“Please,” Nick scoffed. “His wife? She’s the type to get divorced, not jealous. How about his mistress? She gets sick of him - no, wait, he wants to leave her-”

“It’s not a soap opera, Nick.” She sighed and glanced over at the whiteboard. It had been Nick’s idea to chalk up some of their theories, in decreasing order of likelihood.

 

  1. Killed by ZPP for stealing funds through Bellwether
  2. Killed by Bellwether b/c she’s insane
  3. Tigers?



 

“The last time,” Judy admitted, “once we both-” She stopped herself from going down that road again. “Once  _ I  _ realized what the night howlers were, I thought… I couldn’t imagine a suspect. Call it naive, but all I could think was,  _ Who would want to do this? _ And I couldn’t imagine a single name.”

She flopped backward onto the couch. “Now it’s the opposite problem. I can’t think of a single suspect who  _ didn’t _ have the motive to shoot him.”

“What is it about her?”

Startled, she glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Bellwether. What is it about her that sets you off so much?”

“Nick…”

“I know, I know,” he held up both paws, “it’s not something you want to get into. It’s just… I can’t help but be curious. I mean, I was there too, I was the one she…”

He suddenly and very conspicuously shut up. Judy propped herself up on one elbow and rose from the couch. “No, what?”

“It’s not important, fluff.”

She didn’t know what possessed her to open her mouth. But the next thing she knew, she was already saying the words. “I’ll tell if you do.”

His eyebrows rose incrementally, as though to say,  _ Really? _ “You sure you want to do that?”

“No. I really don’t,” she confessed. “But I don’t want to be keeping secrets from you. If we’re doing this, you have to go first.”

“Was it something I did?”

That was not the answer she’d been anticipating. Blinking, she took in the worried look on his face, “What?”

“When we were in the museum. When I was acting savage - you know that was just acting, right?” He seemed agitated by the thought. “At the time, I thought you were just pretending to be scared, but - you know I’d never actually try to eat you-”

Judy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Nick, that was just improv! I loaded her gun myself, of course I didn’t think you’d actually hurt me!”

“It’s just - I had no idea she’d have that effect on you, carrots. And I got worried that it was something to do with me, something I did to make you - Judy, I’d never try to make you feel like-”

“It’s because of you.”

The pressure of remorse inside her was too powerful. There was nothing else for it.  _ All roads lead to the same place. I knew that I would have to go down this path eventually. _

The expression on his face was sadness and horror and confusion and hurt. “Judy…”

“It’s not your fault, Nick! I was afraid - she tried to kill us the last time we met. What she did to you, what she wanted to do - she didn’t care about you at all. It was just to silence  _ me _ . She tried to make you do something  _ horrible _ , and, and she told me in there that if she ever got out, she’d try to do it to you again! She’d turn you into a monster just to - to  _ get  _ to me! And I couldn’t - I don’t know what I’d do, if, if you were - if she ever did something - if  _ I  _ ever did something…”

She hiccuped. Her breath seemed to have caught in her throat. She couldn’t even look up at him anymore. She felt the couch shift as he sat down next to her, and a pair of paws wrap around her and pull her to his side.

“I’m so  _ scared _ ,” she babbled. “I’m just - I’m gonna  _ say  _ something, or  _ do  _ something stupid, and it’s gonna - I’m gonna hurt you, and - and I’m so fucking  _ selfish _ . I know that I’ll do something wrong, and I’ll hurt you, and all I can - all I can think about is that you’ll leave me again.”

“Carrots, look at me.” His paw found her chin and tilted her head up to meet his green, worried eyes. Suddenly very conscious of how pathetic she must seem, Judy shut her mouth.

“I was wrong.” His paw settled on her shoulder and lingered there. “I was - I was stupid and immature to walk out on you like that.”

“Nick, how can you - how can you  _ say  _ that? I said-”

“I know what you said, carrots, I was there. And I should’ve talked to you about it. I should’ve done something other than taking my ball and going home. I knew that wasn’t going to fix anything, and I - I screwed up.” He closed his eyes and looked pained. “And I didn’t even realize that I’ve had you walking on eggshells for God knows how long because you’re afraid I’ll do it again. That’s - this is on me, Judy. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, it’s not your fault!” This was somehow going both better and worse than she could’ve imagined. “I should’ve talked to you, I should’ve  _ said  _ something-”

“How could you say something if you thought I’d… throw a temper tantrum and ditch you?” He lowered his head. “Look, Jude, it hurts knowing you felt like you couldn’t trust me. But it hurts even more knowing that I didn’t give you any reason to trust me. You think you can forgive me?”

Something inside Judy melted. “Nick. I never blamed you.” She bit her lip.  _ Oh, go on. You know you’ll never have the guts to say it again. _

“I’ve got a confession to make,” she admitted. “Before we officially make up - if I’m trusting you, I have to tell you everything. And for what it’s worth, I forgive you ahead of time, so don’t feel guilty about saying no. And if you decide afterward that - that you don’t want to hang out, or that it’s weird for me to be around, I - I still forgive you, and I don’t blame you at all.”

She opened her mouth, but he never gave her a chance.

The next thing Judy felt was the sensation of Nick’s muzzle almost enveloping hers. She hadn’t actually imagined how this would work, and it took some quick adjusting of angles to aim properly. After that, she seemed to lose all sensation except that of his mouth on hers. His breath tasted like cheap takeout and his skin smelled like lust and pheromones. She was aware of the small, surprised noise she made as he kissed her, then heard nothing but what sounded like a low, contented purr from the back of his throat.

Gently, he pushed her back against the couch and held her there for a minute. And then he released her and pulled away, watching her. She felt a shiver run down her back and realized she was gaping back up at him like an idiot. Hurriedly, she made sure there was no drool dangling from her lip.

“I’m  _ really  _ hoping that was what you were going to confess,” he remarked, wiping his shit-eating grin with the back of his paw. “Otherwise, this next part is going to be kind of awkward.”

“You  _ knew? _ ” she squawked. Her skin felt like pins and needles. All the blood seemed to have left her head. “You knew this whole time, and you just let me stew?”

“I had no idea until Wolfard pointed it out.” He smirked. “Then, though, I started noticing how well you fill out that uniform… and you  _ do  _ tend to hotbox the car on occasion.”

She hit him. A sudden sensation of euphoria seemed to fill her veins; she could even see the humor in it. It was like being drunk on someone’s presence. “So you’ve been hiding feelings from me and just… letting me be repressed? You  _ jerk _ .”

She felt so tired, and yet so alive. It was as though she’d cried out all the feeling in her body, wrung herself out like an old rag, but one kiss from him and she was awake and alive again. Her fox.  _ My fox. Oh my God. _

“Well…” he drawled, pushing her back down against the couch, “if you’re still feeling repressed, I can make it up to you. I’d hate to let my partner hold a grudge.”

There was no way in hell Judy was going to fight this. Eagerly, she fell onto her back and seized his tie, pulling him on top of her. His lips found hers again and she couldn’t help but release a blissful little moan. For a moment, she was content just to run her paws through his fur and let him have his way with her. Only when he moved from her mouth to her neck did she open her eyes.

“Wait, wait,” she stuttered. “Are you  _ serious? _ ”

“Carrots,” he growled, “you know nothing I do is serious.”

She felt his teeth trace lines in her skin, his mouth clamped over her neck. A low, animal growl rose in his throat, some kind of primal noise of pleasure. It excited and terrified her in equal measure; she was in the jaws of a predator, and helpless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.

“You mean, here?” she gasped. “Right now?”

“I wasn’t planning on right here.” She felt his paws reach underneath her. One of them ran down her ass and squeezed her tail, making her squeak. “Aren’t you tired of sleeping on the couch?”

Part of her, the part that made her a sucker of tradition, wanted to protest that they hadn’t even been on a first date yet. The rest of her vehemently told that part to shut up. She didn’t fight as he picked her up and hauled her toward the bedroom, still kissing her neck roughly.

“This is actually happening,” she muttered. “Right? We’re actually going to do it?”

That made him lift his muzzle from her neck and look at her, a wry smile on his face. “We’re going to ‘do it?’ That’s the word we’re using? C’mon, Judy, I thought we’d moved past the fuck barrier already.”

She rolled her eyes and he kissed her again, shoving the door open and pushing her down on his bed. She curled her paws in his fur and gently directed him toward the soft places where her neck met her collarbone.

“And we’re actually going to date? Like you’re going to take me out for dinner?” She inhaled sharply as his teeth found a sensitive place.  _ I’m going to be covered in marks tomorrow.  _ “I’m not easy, you know. I just want to make that clear.”

“Of course not. Lie back.” Still working her over with soft, savage kisses, he directed her paws up above her head and held them there. She was helpless to stop him, not that she would’ve dreamed of trying.

“Thank you, Nick,” she gasped, squirming underneath his attention. She closed her eyes and let him work. “If you hadn’t - I’d still be acting stupid and hiding my feelings. If you hadn’t asked me - if you hadn’t let me stay over-”

She heard a soft, metal  _ click  _  and her eyes opened. She’d been so captivated with his teeth on her neck that she hadn’t noticed what his paws were doing. It took her a second to realize that her partner had handcuffed her to the bedpost. With her own cuffs, no less. He lifted himself off her and grinned as he admired his handiwork.

“Don’t worry, Judy. It’s my job to keep you safe, remember?” He leaned in and let her kiss him again. “And I’m making sure you don’t go anywhere tonight.”

“Sly fucking fox,” she muttered, testing the cuffs.

“Dumb bunny.  _ Completely  _ at my mercy.” He traced a claw down her neck, running down her chest and thigh. “You can stop any time you want.” He smirked down at her. “But you won’t.”

“Just shut up and kiss me again before we do this.”

He obeyed and she melted some more. For moment, all she could smell and taste and touch was him. She pressed herself eagerly into the kiss. He wanted this as much as she did; she could feel it when he breathed and hear it in the soft noises of pleasure he made. Her heart ached with satisfaction and she let herself drift away into nothing…

And then he released her. His paws hooked into the waistband of her pants and pulled them off. Goosebumps pricked her skin as it met the air. She glanced up at him, breath heavy in her lungs, wearing only her shirt and underwear. She found him gazing down at his bunny with a sharp, predatory smile.

“You ready, fluff?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...and then they banged."
> 
> I want to hear you all tell me in the comments: how many people are waiting for the plot to resume next chapter, and how many people are hoping for a straight-up smut interlude?


	11. The Smut Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: THIS PART IS SMUT. LITERALLY, JUST STRAIGHT-UP FUCKING. IT'S FURRY PORN. DON'T READ IT IF YOU DON'T WANT THAT. THERE'LL BE A NEW, NON-FURRY PORN CHAPTER UP TOMORROW.
> 
> I should never have asked if you people wanted smut. As I have learned the hard way, y'all are a bunch of superfreaks.
> 
> So yes, I caved to pressure and wrote you all WildeHopps smut. These hands have sinned, may God have mercy on my soul, etc, etc. (This is not my first smut rodeo, just saying.) You should get a new chapter tomorrow and we can get back to the IMPORTANT things, like who shot a politician. Have fun, you filthy animals.

All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing.

“Close your eyes,” he told her, and she did. The room was dark, but her pounding heart and feverish brain flooded her with tiny sensations. The feeling of his old blanket beneath her. The chill of the air on her bare legs. The cuffs around her paws, tethering her in place, restricting her movements. She lay there, trembling and helpless, waiting for the axe to fall.

The first touch was a shock. She felt his warm breath on her leg and flinched, trembling as he raised goosebumps all along her flesh. Then nothing. It was though she’d imagined it. Then a touch; sharp claws running swiftly down her leg. She couldn’t stop herself from yelping at the sudden sensation, and then it was gone again.

A low purr rose from between her legs. “You thought I was going to make it quick?” he asked. I’ve got you right where I want you. And I’m going to take my  _ time  _ with you.”

He was teasing her. Torturing her. He had her on a leash now, and he could give her as much slack as he pleased - or jerk her back whenever he wanted. Half of Judy wanted to yell at him to hurry up and stick it in her already; the other half voiced its masochistic approval.

Judy didn’t know what was worse: the idea that her life was turning into one of those awful dime-store  _ Fifty Shades _ romances, or the idea that she might actually be enjoying it. 

_ Just stop thinking at let him run the show, _ she told herself. _ We all know he’s got more experience with - with this sort of thing. _

His paws gripped her knees and he planted a kiss on the inside of her thigh. He hadn’t even touched her panties yet, but her sex was suddenly hit with the warmth of his breath, and her skin was alive with the pinpricks of his teeth. He shifted. Then another kiss, a little farther up, and a little lower. Then a little farther along, a line of kisses headed towards her - she shivered and tried to press her thighs together, but he easily pulled them apart and continued.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he warned her in a low growl. The voice she’d only ever heard him use with suspects, the  _ I-mean-business _ voice.

“Are you naked yet?”

“We’re getting there. Don’t open your eyes.”

“I wanna see you naked.” Somehow, despite the circumstances, saying those words to him still brought a blush of  _ Did I really say that? _ to her cheeks. Judy had to remind herself that it wasn’t an unreasonable request seeing as she was currently having sex.

“Trust me, cottontail, you’ll get everything you want and more.  _ If  _ you behave.”

“Wow, listen to you, Mister Christian Grey Wolf.” She bit down hard on her lip as he growled and ran his claws down her thighs, stroking the tender skin nobody but her had touched before.  _ Get a grip, girl! He barely took your pants off! _ “So - so what happens if I don’t wanna close my eyes, huh? Are you going to blindfold me?”

“Y’know, I’d always heard that bunnies were kinky, but boy, they weren’t kidding..” She flushed.  _ Walked right into that one. _ “And if that crappy book was your standard, you’re about to have a  _ very  _ memorable evening.”

Judy decided that there was no harm in playing along. Purely to mess with him, of course. Not that she  _ wanted _ to.

She stretched out against the cuffs, pulling them tight, and whimpered. “Oh please, mister fox. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you say.” She felt more than a little ridiculous saying the words out loud, and yet… she couldn’t deny that it made her heart skip a little bit.

“Anything?” he purred. His paws found their way up to her sides, tickling her, making her squirm. “Alright, little bunny, how about this: either you show me how good you are with that mouth…  _ or _ , I can eat you right here and how. You get to choose.”

It took her a second for her to register what he was driving at, and then she felt all the blood rush straight to her head. If she’d ever wondered what the most embarrassing question of her life was, she now had an answer.  _ Thank God it’s shameless Nick Wilde we’re talking about; I’d never have had the guts to just proposition someone like that. _

Option B most quickly came to mind. Not that she was ready to admit it, but it was a daydream she’d entertained on a couple long nights. The idea of feeling his teeth on her belly, his hot breath rising between her legs, squirming frantically against her cuffs as his tongue probed her tracing her labia, circling her clit - just the thought was fantasy material, and she didn’t have to settle for imagination and fingers tonight.

However, she had to admit, she’d been pretty passive for this whole encounter, and she didn’t want their night to be nothing more than him pleasuring her. Her pride was on the line here; he had to scream her name at least once tonight. There was no way he was going to be convinced that she was a sexual goddess, but still, she wanted badly to leave an impression.

There was, of course, the fact that she was new at all this.  _ How hard can it be, though? He’s a guy. Plus, it’ll be more than worth it if I can get that smug asshole facade of his to crack. _

“Don’t eat me, mister fox,” she pleaded. “Let me make it up to you.”

She still couldn’t see him, but she got the impression he hadn’t been expecting her to pick that option. Certainly he hadn’t anticipated that she’d sound so eager. She heard him cackle, and then the buckle of his belt jingle.

She couldn’t help it; she cracked an eye and drank him him. He looked like a Chippendales model, his tie undone over the back of his neck and his shirt half-buttoned. He shrugged it all the way off and then shed his pants - and it was at that point that she got a good look at the main attraction. Not as big as the porn sites promised, but… well, he was certainly on par with any of her sex toys. Enough to make a rabbit feel inadequate.

He caught her starting and shook his head. “Oh, carrots. I thought I told you to close your eyes?”

“Sorry,” she said meekly, making no effort to obey him. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t you dumb bunnies know anything? The more you fight me…” A single claw reached out and traced its way agonizingly down the front of her pants, right over the lip of her labia “...the more I’m going to have to tease you.”

Now completely naked, he climbed back on the bed and straddled her until he was leaning over her face, one paw on the headrest. This close, the overwhelming scent of his pheromones made Judy’s head swim with lust. He was in heat, and she had no doubt what he planned to do with her when he got tired of playing around.  _ I’m not going to walk right for a week, _ she thought, strangely giddy at the prospect.

One of his paws reached down between his legs and pulled his cock up to eye level with her. He was painfully hard for her, and she knew a simple blowjob wasn’t going to satisfy him. The tip was an inch away from her twitching pink nose. The breath seized in her throat. She could see the knot at the base, and wondered if he planned on making her take it.

“As long as you’re admiring the view,” he grinned, “open wide.”

She took a deep breath and obeyed. Her brain recoiled as the tip touched her tongue, but she craned her neck and took it into her mouth. Salty pre-cum swirled in her mouth. For a minute there, she just let it bob in her mouth, uncertain. Then he thrust it in, gently, and she got the idea. Dutifully, she began to slide her lips up and down his shaft, feeling him tremble in her mouth.

The sensation was like nothing else she’d ever quite experienced before. It didn’t even compare to the thought of what it would feel like with his tongue inside her - but that the same time, it was strangely liberating. He penetrated her, but she felt as though she was the one controlling him. Every time she lavished her lips upon his shaft or let her tongue play across his swollen head, she felt him tremble and heard him make soft, urgent noises. He was at her mercy. She felt as if she could make him release in an instant if she wanted to.

Then she gagged as the tip touched the back of her throat.

For the first few minutes, it was a simple blowjob, and she was in command. But as she began inviting him deeper, he began to push further and further into her mouth, gagging her, pushing her as far as she could go, to take as much of him as she could. Her eyes watered slightly, but she didn’t allow herself to give up.

Then his paw found the back of her head and he began to do it for her. This was no longer a blowjob, and Judy knew that she was no longer calling the shots; she was being facefucked. Used, roughly and callously as a sex toy. She could see a look of absolute nirvana spread across Nick’s face, and the  _ sounds  _ he made; soft yips and snarls and barks that began to crescendo in volume as he fucked her harder and rougher. He certainly had no intention of treating her like glass; she hadn’t complained, and he was going to do whatever he wanted with her until she did.

His pace began to increase, his shaft sliding in and out with feverish eagerness. He was so close; she could feel him trembling, hear him growling and pining for release. Resolve hardening, she relaxed her throat and went limp, letting him push himself in and out of her mouth until he couldn’t take it anymore.

It was warmer than she’d imagined it would be, and the taste was bitterly salty. But the part she hadn’t anticipated was the quantity. Before she could make up her mind to spit or swallow, the choice was taken from her. It was already filling her mouth, choking her, running out over her lips, dripping down her chin and onto her chest.

He pulled out, his cock still throbbing. White, gooey strings dripped from his tip, running down onto her chest in sticky rivulets. She pulled back and breathed deep, trying to wipe her mouth on her shackled paws. She knew she must look utterly degrading right now, but she was so far beyond appearances that she couldn’t bring herself to care.  _ Say what you want about me, I never would’ve tried this before tonight. _

“That was…” He panted, catching his breath, and eased himself off her so she could breathe. “Whew. Do all you bunnies fuck like that? Or are you just a slut for fox cum?”

She batted her eyes at him with as much fake grace as she could muster. “Aww, you’re done already? The big bad fox doesn’t have much self-control.”

She could bait him all night, but he had no intention of playing by her rules. Judy had just enough time to think  _ Cheating bastard _ before his paw began to gently stroke the front of her panties again. Somehow, his claws seemed to explore every wet crevice right through the fabric.

“Y’know, I can do this for hours,” he mused. “Tease you. Keep you on edge. I can keep you  _ just  _ on the brink of cumming if I want, but always  _ just  _ out of reach. After a couple hours, you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

Judy would’ve dearly loved to prove him wrong, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe someday, with practice - assuming there was a lot more of this sort of thing in the future, which she was greatly looking forward to - she could test his resolve. But as she pressed her legs together, she could feel the crux of her thighs growing wet.  _ Typical. My own body is selling me out for sex.  _

“You  _ could _ ,” she pondered, stretching her whole body as seductively as possible. “But you won’t.”

The next thing she knew, he had hiked her shirt up to her armpits and completely exposed her stomach. “Oh no. I want to taste you, little bunny.”

Naked, he curled over her chest like an adoring dog and brought his muzzle down to her soft skin. Growling, he worshipped her stomach and navel with his lips and teeth, lavishing her with his tongue. He was good; Judy pressed her thighs tighter together and fought to keep her composure. His paws curled over the hem of her panties.

One good tug brought them down to her knees, another pulled them off completely. She was far beyond embarrassment at the thought of him seeing her exposed; the noises he made in the back of his throat told her that he liked what he saw. His paws parted her thighs and his lips, tongue, and teeth continued to work their way, slowly but inevitably, down her body.

She closed her eyes and lay back. It was heaven, it was slow, anguishing, blissful torture. Closing her eyes only heightened the sensation; every unanticipated touch felt ten times more potent.  _ If I can bring it up later without getting mocked… that blindfold might not be such a bad idea. And a gag for him, of course. _

The first touch made her shriek out loud. First she felt his lips brushing, kissing against her labia. Then his tongue, tracing the crevice, slowly exploring her, tasting her. Drawing lazy circles around her clit. Then venturing inside her, probing her slit, pushing deeper than she ever thought he’d reach.  His muzzle enveloped her, his tongue felt alive and hungry within her. She squirmed, wrapping her legs around his head. There was no escape, no tender place inside her that he couldn’t touch.

“Nick,” she gasped, her hips bucking uncontrollably, trying to push him deeper. “Nick, I -  _ mmmf  _ \- oh God-”

It took him a second to extricate his mouth. “What, no smart remarks now? Someone sounds eager.”

_ Six months working with together, and I finally found a good use for that mouth. _ She knew what mouthing off would get her, however. In the interest of cumming sometime before dawn, she bit her tongue. “Nick, please, I -  _ unnf _ , I’m gonna - I need to-”

“Go on and beg, bunny.” He resumed lazily torturing her clit while one of his claws slowly entered her. “I’m gonna take as long as I want with you.”

The force and pressure of his fingers inside her, penetrating her, filling her, combined with the sharp, electric dexterity of his tongue stimulating every nerve - it was too much. She felt as though her body was being stretched to the breaking point. Whimpering, choking on pleasure, she thrust her hips, bucking him further and further inside her. He obliged greedily. Through the haze of sensation, she dully wondered if this was how Nick had felt fucking her throat.

It came too fast for her to prepare. She didn’t even have time to warn him, not that she was really in much capacity to. Her orgasm rushed through her like lightning, flooding her sex with sensation. She was certain that the noises she made woke the entire apartment building. She bucked once more, twice, and then fell limply back against the covers, breathing heavily.

“Wow. Damn.”

She panted, clumsily wiping sweat off her forehead. “How… do I taste?”

He pulled himself off her, licking his lips. She was pleased to see that he seemed to have gotten a healthy coat of her orgasm too.  _ I’m not gonna be the only one with cum on me. _

“Eager,” he purred. “Like a desperate, horny little bunny. Was that your first time?”

“I’ve… I’ve done it… myself.” It was hard to catch her breath. “Just not… with someone else. It’s…”

“Incredible,” he finished for her. He cleared his throat, and suddenly his wicked grin was back, this time with her juices dripping from his whiskers. “Have you learned your lesson yet, little bunny?”

She frowned. “Is - is that it?”

“I think I’ve had enough of playing with my prey tonight. And I don’t think my little bunny can take any more.”

He was actually planning to make her beg.  _ That son of a bitch. _ “I - I can do more,” she panted. “I can keep going. I’m not done yet.”

“Really?” he cocked an eyebrow at her. “You want to keep going?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you scream?”

“Yes,” she said, loving this.

“You want me to mount you and fuck you like the slutty little bunny you are?”

_ You are never allowed to call me a slut in any situation but this one, _ she swore. “Yes. Please, mister fox. I haven’t had enough yet. I need it.”

He pretended to think it over. “You don’t  _ sound  _ like you need it. Let me hear you say it.”

_ What is it with him and hearing me swear? _ She wondered.  _ Maybe this turns him on? _ “Please, mister fox. I need you to fuck me. Please let me feel your cock inside me?”

If she’d had any doubts, they were resolved as soon as she saw him visibly stiffen.  _ Oh God, yes, I am actually getting him hard. I can’t tell if it’s the role-play or the dirty talk – no, it is most definitely the dirty talk. Sweet cheese and crackers, he actually looks stunned. _

“Well,” he said, sounding as though he were suddenly short of breath. “Alright then.”

Despite herself, she smirked. “What? No smart remar-”

He was inside her before she could finish, turning her sentence into a sharp gasp. She didn’t even have time to cry out before he’d filled her completely. The sensation was like a bomb going off. She could feel every twitch and throb of him inside her, not as nimble as his tongue had been, but full of raw force and desperation. 

He pushed inside of her and slid it back out, each time eliciting a gasp or moan from her as he stimulated her. At first it was slow and sensuous  and torturous; then he began to push harder. He bent forward, thrusting farther and farther inside her, each time daring her to take more, harder, faster. Every stroke pushed her deeper into the mattress. She spread her thighs and backer her hips with each thrust, inviting him to go deeper.

She could move with him, oscillating back and forth. The effort wracked her whole body. She was only vaguely conscious of begging him not to stop. She could feel him inside her, tickling all the deep and untouched places she couldn’t reach.

With a final grunt of effort, his hips met hers. He was completely on top of her now, his balls brushing against her. She gripped pawfuls of fur and closed her eyes, choking on the stink of warm lust and sweat.

“What’s - why are you stopping?”

He grunted, and shifted himself to get a better angle. “That’s - that’s all you’re gonna fit.”

“Screw that.” She could feel the base of his knot press against the lips of her vagina.  _ That would probably feel freaking amazing. _ She spread her thighs as much as she still could. “I’m wet enough.”

“Judy, I’m trying to fuck you, not break you in half. You really wanna explain  _ that  _ to your doctor?”

“‘Yes, doctor, my fox boyfriend fucked a new hole in me. Nothing a series of intimate and humiliating surgeries shouldn’t fix.’” Her body felt anxious, filled her electricity, her foot trying to thump against the bed. “C’mon, Nick, I’m begging you.”

She still had her eyes closed, but she could feel his chest heave, and it wasn’t with the effort of sex. “Fuck, Judy, don’t make me laugh. You really wanna try this?”

“I have never been more serious, now hurry up and knot me.”

He ground his hips against hers and backed up to thrust again. She spread herself as wide as she could, enticing him to reach just a little further. Beads of sweat collected her forehead.

“I keep telling,” he panted. “It’s not - gonna-”

There was a brief and very intense spark of pain. She felt herself stretch, just a little wider. Something gave inside of her, and Nick seemed to fall forward onto her with his whole weight. Her eyes flew open.

_ “FUCK!”  _ she shrieked.

“What? Should I-”

“It’s in, it’s in,” she whimpered. She’d never imagined she could fit this much; he was ready to burst inside her. His swollen knot pressed against the delicate walls of nerve within her. The sensation was indescribable. “Don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

He didn’t. There was no way for him  _ to  _ stop now; there was nothing he could do now but finish her. He began to dig into her again, arching his back and thrusting against her, pounding her against the bed. Every push made her cry out, first softly but quickly escalating into neighbor-disturbing territory. She was so full, there was almost no room for him to thrust - but God, she could feel every pulse, every throb, every single single hair’s-breadth movement inside her.

She had never felt so alive. Every nerve in her body, from the searing ecstasy that crackled in her sex to the teardrops of sweat that formed on her skin, seemed to be working overtime. She could feel everything, to ecstatic degree. She could hear him panting on top of her, struggling toward the finish line. She clenched around his cock, and felt him shiver with pleasure. 

“You don’t know - what you do to me,” he gasped.

She squeezed every muscle with everything she had and made him moan. “I know - exactly - what I’m doing to you.”

He bit down on top of her, let her feel his teeth digging into the side of her neck. His claws dug into her arms, pressing into her warm, sweating flesh. His tongue lavished her with attention. Deep, primal noises echoed from his throat. Dignity completely abandoned, he rutted against her like a dog in heat, pounding her without restraint or remorse. He was close; she could feel it - so was she.

“Do it,” she gasped into his ear. “Inside me.”

He barely let her finish the sentence. His teeth bit down hard, making her cry out. He thrust inside her once, twice - and then she felt it. He came inside her in a single, heaving push, legs trembling underneath him. She heard him whimper piteously as everything he had flowed out in a single moment of release, spurting inside of her, running over the ridges and bumps of her labia and dribbling out into the sheets.

She was only a second or two behind him. Her teeth sank into his shoulder, and his into hers, and she felt her whole body stiffen at once. The sensation that swept over her body was like cold wind and blistering heat all at once; goosebumps raced up her back, and lightning seemed to course down both her legs. After the sudden rush of sensation was gone, a warm numbness filled her, radiating out from the knot that still weakly throbbed between her legs. A good-job message, her body’s reward for completing her biological imperative.

On wavering paws, he pulled himself as far out as he could and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Judy just stared weakly at the fur on his chest as her brain tried to manually restart. His paws wrapped around her, and she felt his coarse tongue rasp her ears back, grooming her like a kit.

“Well,” she remarked. “Crap.”

He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned smarmily over her. “Wish you had a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke, Nick. Wait, you’re not one of those mammals who smokes after sex, are you?”

“No, just kidding.” He smirked. “I wish I had that recorder pen of yours, though. I always imagined you were kinky, but some of the things you were begging me for-”

“Oh, you’re one to talk! ‘Oh, Mister Fox,  _ please  _ don’t hurt me’ - your  _ neighbors  _ could probably smell how horny you were.”

“Admit it: you loved being ravished by the big, bad fox.” He leaned back and pulled the pillow down underneath their heads. “So, was it everything you thought it’d be?”

“You just want me to say that you’re the best I’ve ever had.” He uncuffed her paws, and she flexed her fingers, rubbing away the pins and needles. She struggled her way out of her shirt and tossed it aside, laying next to him bare. “That said…  _ wow _ .”

“Thank you, thank you. And for what it’s worth, I’m impressed. I didn’t think there’s a single rabbit out there who could take a whole knot.” 

She preened. “Am  _ I  _ the best you’ve ever had?”

“Definitely in the top percentage of rabbits, certainly.”

“You prick.”

He let the silence hang between them for a moment. “So… how’s about that date? Got a restaurant in mind?”

“I had some ideas,” she admitted, “but I kind of got distracted by your dick in my mouth. And for the record: I am  _ not  _ easy, okay? I may have lost my virginity to you before our first date, but I’m not easy.”

She glanced down. “How long until this wears off, by the way?”

“Twenty minutes? Depends on the situation.”

“You’re kidding. What exactly do foxes do when they’re joined at the uglies for twenty minutes?”

“Pillow talk. Cuddling. That kind of thing.”

“Well, Nick, as much as I love you right now, I’m too exhausted to even make out. So unless you’ve got any brilliant ideas…”

“I was gonna suggest I Spy,” he told her in a snide voice, “but one of us would have to turn on the lights, so no.”

She could have said something. But she decided just to close her eyes and let the silence spool out between them. Judy wrapped her paws around his back and snuggled into his chest. One one his paws softly stroked her ears while the other rubbed her back and settled in the vicinity of her ass.

“So have you been getting off on calling me a dumb bunny all this time?”


	12. The Zootopia People's Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the plot, you sick puppies.

Everything ached.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the blinds. The cardboard-thin walls leaked the sounds of early-morning traffic outside. Judy Hopps lay on her side, naked, in a bed that wasn’t hers. Her partner lay curled around her, cuddling her like a stuffed animal. His tail wrapped between her legs. The room still stank of faint exertion. She was conscious of the ache in her wrists, the claw marks on her arms, the shallow imprints of teeth in her neck and the feeling that she’d pulled some kind of muscle in her groin.

 _I seriously didn’t even know I was capable of that,_ she thought blearily as she watched dust motes dance between the shafts of light. She shifted her legs under the blanket and winced. _Stretch next time._

Bunnies back home didn’t have one-night stands. Especially not with coworkers. It would’ve been a stretch to say bunnies waited for marriage, but at least they pretended to. _Whereas I am going into work in a couple hours smelling like I’ve just spent all last night banging a fox._ She wondered if there was time to run by the convenience store and pick up some kind of perfume. Something strong enough to mask fox musk and cheap cologne.

Her parents had warned her this would happen. _Well, not THIS specifically, and I’m not sure they imagined the predator-prey sex would be consensual, but something along these lines._ This was the inevitable endpoint of the slippery slope that had begun when she’d signed onto the police academy. It wasn’t just the moral majority rabbits who thought the city was a cesspool of crime, lewdness, and depravity; her parents had probably taken it for granted that their daughter was going to be deflowered in a basement orgy, or something similarly immoral.

And they were right. She was waking up next to a fox. A fox who, even worse, she was probably romantically involved with. All because she had to be different. She could’ve, should’ve become a nice, provincial cop - or even better a carrot farmer - and one day she’d be waking up next to some perfectly nice rabbit in a nice suburban burrow with two-point-five hundred kids.

 _Screw that_ , she thought, curling herself around his bushy tail and waiting for him to stir. _I wouldn’t take back a second._

Half an hour later, he still showed no signs of waking up. She deftly extricated herself from his tangle of limbs and tail and waddled to the bathroom, collecting last night’ clothes on the way. _Better pick up some aspirin along with that perfume. The worst part is, I ASKED him to do this to me._

A shower was probably loud enough to wake Nick, so she stuck her head under the tap and rinsed herself off as well as she could. She wasn’t sure what the morning-after etiquette was in this case, and felt humiliated asking. _Do I wake him up or wait? Is he going to want to go again? At what point do I bring up the possibility that I may be pregnant? At least after breakfast, right? Wait, he’s a fox, can he even get me pregnant? Jesus Capybara, I had a small nation’s worth of sisters; how did this never come up?_

If he wasn’t going to wake up early, she was just going to have to raid his fridge. Degenerate bachelor he may have been, at least Nick owned a toaster. Breakfast was probably going to have to be something slathered in cream cheese. She was debating between bagels and Pop-Tarts when she heard him roll over in bed.

He slouched in ten minutes later, shirtless of course. “I was kind of hoping you’d be wearing one of my old shirts,” he yawned.

Underneath all the smarm, she could tell he was glad she was still around. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving him in bed. _Next time._

“I considered it,” she admitted. “But I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist seeing me like that, and I don’t think I’m ready for countertop sex yet, so you’re gonna have to make do with sweats.”

“Fair.” He swooped past her and pulled a cereal box out of the cabinet. “But since we _are_ dating, I get a free pass to admire your magnificent ass as much as I want. Deal?”

A knot inside of Judy loosened. “So we _are_ dating?”

He tried to be smooth, but she saw him almost drop his bowl. ”Did you change your mind?”

“What, no! No, of course not.”

“I said we would date when you asked me, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” she conceded, “you _did_ say we would date. When you were horny and trying to get in my pants.”

“Which, I’d like to point out, worked perfectly.” He leaned up the counter and grinned at her. “Carrots, what kind of guy would I be if I lied about our relationship to have sex with you?”

“A guy.”

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to get you one of my shirts?”

They ate in mostly silence. Judy was fully aware that he was checking her out, not that she minded. It was no small boost to her ego to know that, even dressed in last night’s clothes, pre-shower and smelling like the morning after, he still found her attractive. _If I didn’t know better, I’d say he can’t believe how lucky he is._ She blushed. _No, he can’t. Oh my God, he really is into me, isn’t he?_

“I never know what to say after things like this,” he admitted cheerfully. “How do you talk about sex outside of actually _having_ sex? What’re we supposed to do, talk about the weather?”

“We’ve always got the case,” she reminded him. “Officer Lansdowne probably has a confession out of one of those kids by now. We need to get something on Bogo’s desk before this goes to court.”

“I almost forgot we were working. That’s right, the aardwolf with a cop fetish.” He looked her over appraisingly, his smile toothy. “Hey, how d’you feel about wearing the uniform-”

She waved a spoon at him. “No. We can’t be discussing this at work. If anyone finds out we’re involved…”

“Don’t ask me how I know this, fluff, but I think they might suspect something.”

“Mammals in relationships can’t work together, Nick. Do you want to get reassigned?”

“Alright, alright. Strictly after-hours.” He scratched himself. “In that case, officer, the only leads I can think of are either to start talking to tigers or to take this to someone in the ZPP.”

Judy rolled her eyes. “Another politician. Alright, who’s your representative?”

“He was caught in a crack den, remember?” Nick shook his head. “Nah, we need to go to the top. Shep Sanders, the party chair. I remember the records-” he glanced over at the living room, which was still swamped with papers. “Well, some of these had his name on them. The Lib-Dems apparently thought he was a problem.”

Judy furrowed her brow. “He was one of Bellwether’s goons.”

“She appointed him assistant mayor,” Nick admitted. “But he’s not in prison. Delgato and his basement-dweller friends went savage on that guy’s records after she went down; if he was in on her whole scam, he managed to jettison all the evidence. Plus, he’s a pred - that’s gotta count for something.”

“He also has the best motive for having the other party’s fixer whacked,” Judy pointed out.

“Sure, Don Carrots. Because he’s a two-faced politician, not because his teeth are pointy.” He tossed the remainder of his soggy cereal down the drain. “Shall we get coffee before we make him an offer he can’t refuse?”

“I need a shower first.” She rinsed off her plate and tossed it in the sink. “You do too. You smell like you spent all night doing it with a rabbit.”

“And what’s the problem with that, exactly?”

She rolled her eyes and slammed the bathroom door behind her. _Of all the foxes you could’ve fallen for-_

 _“You can’t get pregnant, by the way!”_ he called through the door. _“Don’t worry, I checked!”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ZPP’s downtown office was a post-election mess. Under the unforgiving drone of old fluorescent lights that gave a vague green glow to everything they touched, predators from pine martens to polar bears scurried back and forth, trading printouts and papers. The constant buzz of ringing phones sounded in the background.

Shep Sanders struck Nick as a shark. Not in the sense of a fearsome apex predator; more in the sense that if he stopped moving, he would die. A wideset sheepdog in his mid-fifties - built like a wall, but with a few spare inches in his belt that genetics couldn’t explain - he dressed in conservative blue pants offset by a faded pink dress shirt and a navy tie. Nick guessed he’d been wearing a matching suit coat this morning, but where it had gone to now was anyone’s guess.

If he was their killer, Nick thought, he didn’t seem to be learning very well from Dane Civet’s example. The secretary barely glanced at their badges before waving them on in. The whole office was in motion, Shep included. They found him leaning over a cougar’s desk, shoving an earpiece on.

“Hi, this is - yeah, I’ll hold.” He glanced down at the computer screen and motioned for the cougar  to change something. A stoat leaped onto the desk holding a sheaf of papers; he took one off the top, skimmed it and nodded his approval. “Hi, yes, I’m Shep Sanders, chair of the Zootopia People’s Party. As you know, we’ve just had an election, and I was wondering-”

Whoever was on the earpiece, Sander’s face suddenly creased. “Nice to meet you too, fuckwad,” he muttered, yanking off the earpiece and passing it back to the cougar. Nick could hear a dial tone buzzing from the mic. “No, just keep calling. No, it’s good, I like the graphic. Just so long as you can multitask-”

“Shepard Sanders?” Judy announced, skipping forward and holding out her badge. “Officer Hopps, ZPD. Can we have a moment?”

He looked blearily up at them. “I - yes, certainly. If this is about the actions of any of our members, I’ve told the ZPD, we have denounced-” He snapped suddenly. “ _Wait_ , I recognize you.”

“She gets that a lot,” Nick remarked dryly.

“No, I - well, yeah, I recognize her, Judy Hopps.” He stepped forward and seized Nick’s paw. “And Officer Nicholas Wilde, first fox at the ZPD. Now, officer, you’re a registered voter, right?”

Nick blinked. “You - know me.”

“Read your name in the paper,” Shep agreed, still shaking. “You opened a lot of doors for a lot of people, Officer Wilde. We like to say that an opportunity for one predator is an opportunity for us all.”

He had an overwhelming personality; very friendly, very forward, and very much in your face. It was literally passive aggression. Nick found it easy to imagine why this guy had been chosen as the ZPP’s public face, and why he’d been so good at it. It was hard to imagine that Shep Sanders ever heard the word “no.”

Judy looked between them, bemused. “Mister Sanders, do you have somewhere we can talk in private?”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Sanders was herding them both into his office. His space, for lack of a better word, made Bogo’s quarters look luxurious. He sat down on the corner of his desk, sweeping a campaign poster out of the way with his tail.

“I’ve already been on the phone with your supervisor,” he informed them jovially, shoving cups of filter coffee into their paws. “It’s appalling, pure and simple. We’ve been clear - do you watch much ZNN? We’ve been clear, _unequivocally_ clear, that violence against one of us is violence against us all. Predator or prey. Or insectivore. Go on, try the coffee, it keeps the wheels going.”

“Mister Sanders-”

“Lord, please, Shep. I mean it. No, I wanted to talk to you both, so it’s fortuitous that you came by; I’ve been contacted by the Nimr family.” He shook his head. “Let me just say, I have always supported the regulations of firearms in this city, and for civilians to flout those laws is disgraceful. But I think we can agree - all of us here - that the kid, Jamal? He doesn’t have anything to do with the charges I’ve been hearing.”

 _“Mister Sanders,”_ Judy interrupted, more forcefully this time. “I appreciate it. We’re not even in charge of that investigation, however.”

“Right, you’re not ‘in charge,’ I follow.” He paused in the middle of his own air quotes, studying them. His ears perked up. “Wait, you’re serious? I thought it was common knowledge that Hopps and Wilde were heading the Civet case.”

Judy cocked her head at him. “Who told you that, Mister Sanders?”

He shrugged, still with a sunny expression on his face. “I run a major political party, Officer, I have little birds tweeting in my ears all day. Everybody knows that you two are supposed to be running this case.”

“Well, you’ve been misinformed. We’re just collecting testimony.”

“Shep,” Nick added, “you were close to Bellwether, right?”

The sheepdog’s ears drooped. “Oh, oh I see where you’re headed. I served as assistant mayor under Bellwether after the whole - _Lionheart_ affair - and then interim mayor up until the election, that’s true. That said, we’ve cut all ties with the both of them since that incident. The Zootopia People’s Party does _not_ and has _never_ supported that kind of corruption.”

“Were you aware that she was stealing from your party?”

The question didn’t faze Shep for a second. “We had some discrepancies, I believe. Bellwether’s policy was to leave a lot of - I don’t know if you’re familiar with campaign finance? A lot of _loose_ money floating around. That’s a policy we’ve completely rectified, one-eighty degrees. Rest assured, we’ve turned all our finances into the ZPD investigation, to the best of my knowledge. In fact, Officer Wilde, let me just say, I want to see that crook behind bars more than anyone.”

“And now you’re here,” Judy remarked. “Chair of the party. You had a lot of reason to be happy she went down.”

Shep gestured out the window. “I don’t know if you heard about the election, officer, but we lost something awful. Those two criminals humiliated us. Our PR is in the can right now, pardon my saying. If I wanted to climb to the top of the ladder, there are better ways to do it than decapitating the party.”

“What about Civet?”

“He was a crook,” Shep told them with good cheer. “Nothing I can prove, of course, but - well, let me just say that he was a lot more important than his party let on. Still - violence against anyone, let alone an elected official, is always going too far.”

“You know anyone who’d want to kill him?”

Sanders shook his muzzle. “Nope. Don’t know anyone who’d stoop that low, officer. We don’t need the bad publicity, if you don’t mind my saying.”

This was getting them nothing new. Judy glanced at Nick for ideas. “I had a question, Shep. Why _were_ you picked as head of the ZPP after working for Bellwether? Your credibility wasn’t damaged?”

Shep grinned, tail thumping the side of his desk. “Shoot, a lot of hard work, I’d say. I’ve served the party for years - I like to think I preserved a lot of our public face after the scandal. When it came time to reorder the ranks, they wanted someone who looked…” he gestured to himself. “Trustworthy. Huggable, I guess you could say. And I’ve always had a good rapport with sheep voters - I represent a primarily prey district, you know.”

Judy’s foot tapped the floor eagerly. She could smell something. “The sheep vote?”

“Sure. They were the key to getting Lionheart in office. There’s something of a flock mentality - I’m sorry, is that not PC? That was rude. Studies showed that Bellwether was the key to getting sheep voters onboard with our party - they’ve always had a high turnout, and their numbers were critical during the election. They’ve been mainstays with the Lib-Dems - some more conservative prey still call them species traitors, sad to say. We’re working harder than ever to support them and win back their trust.”

 _You mean you’re working harder than ever to curry favor,_ Nick thought. “So is that why Bellwether was picked for assistant mayor at the nomination? Wasn’t it odd for Lionheart to pick a sheep as his running mate.”

Shep steepled his paws in front of his chest. “There was some… opposition to the idea,” he admitted. “Speaking freely? Off the record?”

“Of course, Shep.”

“The process for choosing a nominee is easy. Picking a running mate - it’s always been sort of a backroom deal thing. The bigwigs get together with the nominee and make their choice. She was a bit of a dark horse - again, I hope I’m being PC. Now I wasn’t involved then, but when Lionheart picked Bellwether - well, there was a lot of outcry. Some of my colleagues resigned in protest. We got a lot of accusations that we were selling out the party to get votes.”

“You don’t know why she was picked?”

“Nope. I know that money was probably involved - always is. And they took on outside ‘consultants’ - that’s their word for important people who want a say in the process. But whose idea it was, I don’t know. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard. Bellwether was a rising star in the Lib-Dems, what on Earth would make her want to join Lionheart? But the brass assuaged us, promised us she’d deliver sheep votes, and the next thing we knew, she was in office.”

He sighed and sat back against the desk. “I can’t describe it. It was like we had a… a guardian angel looking out for us that campaign. Wish we had one now.”

Sanders wasn’t much help. He remained relentlessly cheery and personable for the rest of their talk, and seemed to have an easy answer for every gotcha question Nick could think of. After shrugging off multiple attempts to be roped into a ZPP speaking engagement, Nick managed to retreat to the squad car with Judy.

“Well,” she remarked, slamming the door, “at least he seems to have a soul.”

“He runs a political party, Judy. ‘Guardian angel’ my ass. The guy’s no different from Civet, just good at hiding it.”

She smirked tiredly up at him. “You think the big, goofy sheepdog is the ZPP’s fixer?”

“I’m saying he knows a damn good one. The guy managed to skip through Bellwether’s implosion without a scratch. Nobody is too nice to do that.”

“I’m not talking to Bellwether again,” she warned him.

“I don’t think she’ll tell us anything this time, fluff. Don’t worry.”

Judy tapped the steering wheel. “Well that was a bust. Unless…” She lapsed into thought for a moment. “Slow death by inches.”

“What?”

“The phrase Civet used. Slow death by inches. I dunno why, but it stuck with me.” Her foot thumped softly. “He was angry. Making late-night calls. Maybe he was angry about Bellwether. And she was feeding him money under the table…”

“It makes no sense, though,” he pointed out. “Sanders said the sheep pretty much handed them the election. She was the reason the Lib-Dems lost. I’d buy it if Shep was trying to have her killed, but not Civet.”

“No. Sanders had no motive. The only one in Zootopia who… _didn’t_ have a motive to kill him.”

Without warning, she seized Nick’s paw, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Nick, I know who shot Dane Civet.”


	13. I Love It When You Monologue

A slight, tired-looking deer in a suit coat and skirt raised her antlered head as the front doors swung open. “Hello, welcome to City Hall, may I help-”

Judy stabbed a single claw down into the information desk. The deer shut right up. “Hardy Varkner. I want to see him now.”

The doe looked around nervously. The lobby was empty, thank God; she had no doubt deduced that a pair of angry police officers looking for her boss was only going to end in a career-ending scene. “Uh… Mister Varkner is in a party meeting at the moment, officer-”

“Then you’d better get him out of that meeting,” Nick suggested.

“If you’d like to take a seat…”

“Look, Miss…” the fox glanced down at her nametag. “Velvet? Lemme explain: we’ve got some things to tell your boss. We can tell him those things in the privacy of his office - or we can walk into whatever meeting he’s in and tell him there. We’re going on back now, so why don’t you page him and ask which he’d prefer?”

The deer gave them both a look that said  _ I’m just doing my job. _ But Judy was already marching past the information desk and heading into the office. Behind her, she heard the doe fumble with her intercom.

“Mister Varkner?” she whispered. The speaker squawked feedback at her, and she winced. “I know, sir, but it’s urgent. There’s a pair of officers here to see you…”

“Did I ever tell you I love it when you do that?” Judy asked Nick as they strode down the hall. “I mean, you’re an ass, but still.”

He delicately tapped his nose and smirked back at her. “I can tell.”

Varkner’s office was on the second floor, through the cubicle maze and up the stairs. The shelves were lined with law tomes Judy doubted Varkner had ever read. A rubber plant that somehow seemed to be dying sat on the desk. Nick held the door for her and they made themselves at home.

“Think he’ll show?” Nick asked, leaning up against the wall and watching the clock tick. “Or is he gonna make us barge in?”

“Would it make me a bad person if I kinda hoped he did?” Judy answered savagely.

“Remind me never to get  _ this  _ far on your bad side.” He whistled. “Should I do the talking, or do you wanna monologue on his ass?”

“Oh, with  _ pleasure _ .”

He didn’t keep them waiting long. They heard the anteater’s heavy, out-of-shape breathing before they saw him. He burst into the office, suit coat draped over one arm, and hurriedly straightened his tie and belt. 

“Officer Hopps,” he grunted. “I was in a meeting with Mayor Humpf-”

“Sounds like we did you a favor, huh?” Nick remarked, flicking the plant on the desk. “Boy, what do you feed this thing?”

Judy faced him down and folded her paws in front of her. Intimidating mammals was an art when you were tenth their size. “We know who shot Dane Civet.”

Varkner’s beady eyes stared her down, uncomprehending. “I appreciate it, officer, but you really could’ve left a message with my secretary-”

“Not really. You already know who it was.”

A good interrogation was like tag-team wrestling. Or a bar fight. Either way, you had to cover your partner’s back,come at the target from every direction at once. Overwhelm them, and they’d shut down; do it right, and you can make them talk circles around themselves until their story falls through and their composure shatters. Judy had never felt more in sync with her partner.

“If this is about the tiger, I’ve already made it clear-”

“You know Civet was in bed with Bellwether?” Nick interrupted.

Varkner physically recoiled.  _ “What?” _

“Metaphorically,” Nick clarified. “No one wants to picture  _ that _ . Rhetorical question; we know you know about it.”

“I have no idea-”

“Then how about we spell it out for you? Partner?”

In one bound, Judy leaped up on his desk, reducing the height difference by a couple feet. “We collected Civet’s phone records. No wonder you all were so eager to close the case on his death - he’s been the Liberal Democrat Party’s fixer for years, hasn’t he? Drug abuse, prostitution, unwanted pregnancies,  _ mammal trafficking  _ \- he’s been covering up your problems for years. He keeps your police records clean and your names out of the headlines, and you ensure that he keeps his seat in Little Amur.”

Varkner took a step forward, looming over Judy. “Are you accusing me-”

“Yes, yes we are,” Nick agreed. “But we’re not done yet.”

Judy paced back and forth on his desk. “He was fixing leaks in your party, but he was getting sick of it, wasn’t he?  _ Slow death by inches. _ That was the phrase he used. He was making angry late-night phone calls to members of your party, chewing you out for taking advantage of your monopoly on City Hall. The party was in decline and he knew it.”

“We talked to Bellwether. The ZPP confirmed the discrepancy in their accounts; she’d been feeding him money ever since she got into power.” She pulled a mock-contemplative expression. “You tell me, Varkner. Why would a member of the opposition party risk her job to embezzle funds for a guy like Civet?”

“Whatever you’re trying to imply-”

“For that matter, how did Bellwether even get into power? A prominent young ewe with a promising career in the Liberal Democrats - and a sheep, no less - why would she switch parties? Even the ZPP was shocked when Lionheart took her on as a running mate. Someone must’ve made some kind of backroom deal - but who?”

If he’d had teeth, he would’ve been grinding them. “Would you please get to the point?”

“He  _ sold you out _ , didn’t he, Hardey?” Judy smirked at the look on his face. “Civet knew the Liberal Democrats were failing. He predicted that you didn’t have long left in office. Maybe it would be this election, maybe the next, but eventually, you’d lose City Hall. And that was the problem - Civet was only in power because his district was so badly gerrymandered. Once the predators took over, they’d redraw the districts, and he’d be out of a job.”

“He never liked you, did he, Hardey?” Nick piped up. “He might’ve signed on with the winning side, but boy, I bet a vindictive old bastard like him held grudges. He was probably just  _ waiting  _ for the chance to tell you all to go fuck yourselves.”

“So he did what he’d always wanted to do,” Judy went on. “He betrayed you. He worked his way into the ZPP’s nomination and ensured Bellwether was picked as assistant mayor - bringing the sheep vote with her. He made  _ certain  _ that the ZPP won the next election, and in exchange, he got to keep his district - and blackmail her for funds for his renovation project.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Nick continued. He was clearly enjoying the look on Varkner’s face. “I bet he was planning to jump ship entirely. Defect to the ZPP just like Bellwether did. Perks of being an insectivore, right? You can fit in with either crowd.”

They were in the zone now, speaking as though from one mind. Varkner’s eyes bounced between the two of them, uncertain. They had him off-balance, outnumbered. It didn’t matter that he was many times their size; they had him on the defensive.  _ Straight out of the ZPD handbook. _

“But,” Judy finished, “Dane Civet made a mistake. He didn’t realize just how far Bellwether would go to stay in power. After she went down for the night howlers, the ZPP fell apart. There was no way he could ever make his betrayal public. All he could do was slink back to the Liberal Democrats and hope you never found out what he did.”

“Which you did,” Nick concluded. “And you decided to fix your fixer. You couldn’t just fire him - with all the dirt he had, he’d take you all down with him. So you had him shot and framed a tiger for it - get rid of a backstabbing aardwolf and make predators look bad at the same time.”

Silence. Aside from a few strangled, mouselike noises from Varkner, nothing was said. He seemed to be on the verge of an aneurysm. He took a step toward Nick, and for a second, Judy thought he was about to smash her partner into a grease spot. She felt for her taser…

The door banged open again. A tapir in a tank top and sweatpants barged in, a gym bag swinging like a wrecking ball under her arm. She slammed the door behind her. “I sensed bullshit.”

“Citra.” The sight of her made Varkner take a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he appeared to have reigned in his murderous impulses. “Good. Officer Hopps was just informing me of her  _ theories  _ about the Dane Civet incident.”

Citra’s eyes flicked from her boss to Judy, to Nick. Unlike Varkner, she seemed to immediately piece together what was happening. “I interrupted my self-defense class for this?”

“Even if this…  _ farcical  _ theory is plausible,” Varkner demanded, “what proof do you have that  _ I  _ did it? If my party is as corrupt as you say, every one of us had sufficient reason to want him dead.”

“Because,” Judy replied, fists balling at her sides, “shortly after I spoke to you, my apartment was ransacked. It could have been a burglary - or it could’ve been someone trying to silence me.”

Citra slapped a paw over her face. “Am I responsible for every break-in that happens in Zootopia?” Varkner thundered. “If it  _ was  _ an assassin - and not just some drug addict - then  _ anyone _ who was a suspect could have sent them!”

“Yeah,” Nick agreed. “Except that Judy wasn’t officially investigating the case at that time.”

Varker’s looked lost. His mouth hung slightly ajar. “But you told us-”

“That was a lie, Hardey. Officers Wolfard and Jackson were supposed to be investigating this case. But no one went after them. The only one who was told Judy and I were in charge… was  _ you _ .”

The anteater looked ready to erupt again. “You’re accusing  _ me? My  _ party? If anyone had reason to kill Civet, that ewe and her sheepdog-”

“Sir.” Citra raised a paw and Varkner restrained himself. She straightened her tank top and folded her paws behind her back. “Officers, I’m at Mister Varkner’s side twenty-four hours a day. And when I’m not, my security team is. If he were hiring assassins, I’d know.”

Judy just cocked an eyebrow at her.  _ I didn’t want to say you were in on it, Citra, but…  _

The tapir seemed to take her meaning. “Furthermore,” she added coolly, “these accusations are meaningless unless you can produce a warrant for Mister Varkner’s arrest.”

“Well,” Nick admitted, scratching himself nonchalantly behind one ear. “You’ve got us there. We were hoping you’d make this easy on us.”

The anteater and tapir exchanged looks. Citra looked blankly over them both.  _ I wonder if you can take lessons in that kind of poker face, _ Judy caught herself wondering.

“You want Mister Varkner,” Citra summarized, “to confess to a crime you have no proof he committed.”

Judy gave them both her sunniest smile. “What my partner means is that we have no evidence  _ yet _ . We’re hoping you’ll come with us now and keep your name - and your party’s reputation - out of the news as much as possible. Otherwise… well, we’re going to have to investigate this thoroughly.”

“We still have a  _ lot  _ of phone records to go through,” her partner added cheerily. “Once we start talking to people, I bet one or two of them might be willing to go on the record about you and your party.”

“Either I confess or you fabricate charges against my entire party, is that it?” Varkner growled.

“Well, we don’t  _ have  _ to arrest anyone,” Judy mused. “We’re not saying  _ everyone’s  _ a criminal… but this stuff is probably good enough to ruin a lot of careers. Once these scandals go public, some of your politicians might think it’s a good idea to play ball with us before they lose their jobs. You know how it is: once you start tugging at a thread, it’s just a matter of time before everything comes apart.”

She folded her paws behind her back and smiled professionally at Varkner. “And once we do have enough to get a warrant, we’ll be back to drag you out of here in handcuffs. As  _ publically  _ as possible. And when that happens, I’ll personally make sure that your face appears on ZNN. So I’ll ask you one more time: do you want to come with us now and make this easy?”

The clock above the doorway exploded. In one fluid motion, Varkner had seized the mug off his desk and hurled it across the room. Judy flinched as shards of clear plastic rained down. Even Citra jumped at the violence, her beady eyes wide and staring.

“Get out of my office,” he seethed. “I will see you  _ both  _ fired for this. And tell your chief that he can say goodbye to your funding if I don’t see resignations on my desk tomorrow morning.  _ Out. _ ”

“Sir.” Citra took his paw firmly and manually led him back to his chair. Glanced at Judy and Nick, she tossed her head in the direction of the door. They took the hint.

“You didn’t really think he was going to go quietly?” Nick remarked as they descended the stairs.

“I hoped he would.” She was almost twitching with anger.  _ Deep breaths, Judy. Calm down. _ “Guess it’ll just make it more satisfying when we bring him in.” She checked her phone and smiled a vindictive smile. “Wolfard’s already put in the request for city hall’s phone records - starting right now. I think we scared Varkner badly enough. Let’s see who he calls for help.”

“Did I ever tell  _ you  _ I love with when you threaten people?”

She smirked up at him. “I can tell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I made coffee,” Citra informed him as she pushed the door open. She'd managed to change back into her pantsuit. A burning styrofoam cup sat in her paw.

Varkner was still too worked up to notice. In the five minutes she’d been out of the room, he already put a series of dents in the walls, torn half the books from his shelves, and finished off his sad little rubber plant. She’d unplugged the phone before leaving, but it proved unnecessary - he’d upended that too. And judging by how winded he sounded, he hadn’t ceased his rant the entire time. Most of his discourse was eloquent variations on the word “fuck.”

“-going to fucking break my foot off in that smug little bitch’s ass, what kind of fucking Mickey Mouse operation is that bison fuck running, how dare he let those cocksucking little shits just barge into my office and-”

“Preaching to the choir, sir,” Citra told him in her usual neutral tone. “Your pills.” She pressed them into his paw; he shot them both down without interrupting himself. “And your coffee.”

“I want his  _ ass _ ,” Varkner hissed, pounding the desk with an oversized fist. “That dumbfuck buffalo has been a thorn in my side too long. He never works again after this, do you hear me?” He searched his desk for his phone, but couldn’t seem to remember where he’d thrown it.

“Sit.” She pushed him back into his chair and shoved the cup in his paws. “Stay. You’ve had too many bypasses for this.”

Of course that only riled him up ever more. “I’m not joking, Citra! He’s gone, he’s done! If we can’t trust the ZPD anymore...”

“We don’t just get to ruin whoever we like, Mister Varkner. We work for city hall, not Disney. Drink your coffee.”

He sucked at the cup, apparently not noticing the steam curling off the top. One of his paws went fumbling into his desk for aspirin. Citra produced a pill bottle and he shook out six or seven.

“This is it,” he moaned. “If we don’t nip this now, it’s going to be a fucking nightmare for as long as that bunny’s harassing us. We  _ cannot  _ afford this.”

Citra didn’t even flinch and his manic gestures brought his long claws very close to her face. “We have nothing to worry about, sir.”

“How can you  _ say  _ that?”

“Because,” she said simply. “You didn’t kill Dane Civet.”

“You think that makes a fucking difference?” he wheezed. A coughing spell slowed him, but only for a second. “You think that’s going to matter? Dane fucking Civet had enough leverage on us all to bury this whole fucking party! If she can get anyone to talk about what he covered up-”

“Drink. Your coffee.”

He tried to rise, but she pushed him back down. Her marble eyes locked on his and the effort seeped out of his body.

“Lionheart didn’t stop us,” she reminded him. “Bellwether didn’t stop us. Civet couldn’t stop us, and he was one of us. You keep the mayor from putting his hoof in his mouth. I can handle this.” 

She tipped the styrofoam cup back to his mouth. “Relax. Drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be straight with me: who did you think did it?


	14. The Clean-Up Crew

“My estimate is that we’ve got thirty minutes before he yells at us.”

The lights at the station were turned low. Most everyone had left for the evening, leaving just Nick and Judy in their corner office and Francine carrying out her nightly fight with the vending machine. Bogo was still lurking somewhere in his office; they'd been told to wait until he called for them, presumably to discuss their latest little stunt at City Hall, but he seemed to be taking his time. Nick leaned over the cubicle partition and casually watched Judy type up reports.

“He’s gotta have our back on this one,” she muttered, tuning her earpiece. Nick could tell she was only hearing static. Whatever Varkner was up to, he was smart enough to stay off the phone.

“Hopps, I appreciate the prayer, but you know full well Bogo doesn’t _have_ to do anything. If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll bend the laws of nature to his will.”

“It’s not a prayer. He’s _got_ to have our back on this one. Because if he doesn’t, I will shove six months of phone records in his face.” She bit off the cap of a sharpie and violently highlighted a line. “I grew up in a burrow, Nick. I can yell as loud as anyone.”

“You got us a name?”

“Sort of. Damn Civet. I can’t piece together much, but I _think_ I’ve got an address.” She slapped the paper on Nick’s desk. “Belongs to one Velvet Bujwid. Her daughter was caught up in that prostitution scandal. Underage. Most likely exploited by our own Representative Jermaine Brer. If we can get her mother to testify, I will make sure that - that _scum_ gets at least two decades in prison.”

“You are taking this Bunnyburrow thing _really_ personally, Jude.”

“I take every missing girl personally, Nick.” She gritted her teeth. “Especially when they’re used by slimeballs like that piece of-”

His heavy paws gripped her shoulders and began to knead. “Carrots. You’re getting worked up.”

She sighed, refusing to let go of the tension in her shoulders. He adjusted, pressing harder. “I am _fine_.”

“If you get emotionally invested in a case, you’re going to make mistakes. Cross lines,” he reminded her. “This tap Wolfard got us is only borderline legal as it is. And these guys can afford _good_ lawyers; they’re gonna latch onto that. If you get pissed off and do something that compromises our investigation, none of these mammals will see justice.”

“I know. I know.” She let her head roll forward, suddenly looking very drained. “We have a procedure. Stoic. Dispassionate. Blah blah, the whole nine yards. But how am I expected to _not_ get worked up about this… this… oh, you know what I mean.”

“Say it,” he pressed.

“No.”

“You’ll feel better. Just try it.”

“How am I expected not to get worked up about this twisted, vile _fucker?_ ” She took a deep breath, heart racing a little. “Don’t ever enable me to do that again, Nick.”

“I’m so proud of you.” He reclined her chair, still working on her shoulders. She closed her eyes and gave him a grunt of approval. “Look, it’s not long now. Once Bogo gives us crap for City Hall, we’ll take off, get something greasy for dinner, head back home, call it a night-”

“I _do_ own an apartment, Nick.”

“Like the buffalo is going to ditch you? Please, you’d be sleeping at my place whether I wanted you or not.” Quickly checking that no one was around, he lowered his voice and growled. “Which makes it a _damn_ good thing I do.”

“Nick, not here!” she hissed. “Besides, I’m still sore as it-” She paused, switching tabs. “Huh.”

Nick leaned over her shoulder and glanced at her screen. Her work address was showing a new message. It was poorly capitalized and extremely succinct.

 

_hopps_

_can corroborate everything. i want to make a deal. no names & witness protection _

_2145K waler dr. come immediately_

 

“Anonymous?” Nick snorted. “How dumb do they think you are?”

She clicked the sender. The information was blocked, save for a string of numbers at the bottom. Frowning, she pulled up an address database in another tab.

“IP address is from a computer in City Hall,” she muttered.

“This doesn’t strike you as an obvious trap?”

She folded her paws in front of her. “Nick, even if they were going to send a hitman after me - the most risky and blatantly obvious way of shutting me up - why would they be stupid enough to do it from one of their own computers? They practically put their name on it.”

She had a point, but Nick was unconvinced. “You actually think one of Varkner’s mammals wants to be your Deep Trunk?”

“If I were working for these creeps? I’d inform on them to the janitors if I thought it might bring them down. Maybe someone at City Hall just wants to keep their job - either way, if they try to have me killed, they’re basically _handing_ us the case against them.”

“And are you willing to gamble your life on the idea that Varkner has thought it out as logically as you have?”

He shouldn’t have even asked. If Judy Hopps hadn’t been willing to lose her life for some stupid, misguided, noble crusade, she never would’ve left the farm. It was simultaneously the thing he most admired in her, and the part of her that most scared him.

He wanted to back her up. But Bogo was expecting to yell at someone, and they couldn't afford to disappoint him. He reached over her shoulder and archived the email. “You got this?”

She looked up at him. “Bogo-”

“I’ve spent my whole life handling guys like him. I’ll cover for you.” There was no time to wait and they both knew it. Informants were skittish by nature, and this one could run any moment. “Just… _promise_ me that if it looks suspicious, you won’t stop to investigate.”

She stood up in the chair, eye to eye with him. “You’re _sure_ you want me going alone?”

They both knew that the issue wasn’t her abilities. She'd handed worse alone. He looked away first. “No. Not really. Just… _please_ don’t scare me. Alright?”

She placed her paws on either side of his head. He felt her lean into him and kiss his muzzle. “I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up, Robin Hood.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Waler Drive was lined with fat, decrepit warehouses painted with peeling serial numbers. The recession had screwed this area pretty badly; Zootopia’s industrial sectors were still hurting for funding. She parked the cruiser a block out, no lights, and made sure her pathetic pistol was strapped to her side before setting out for 2145K.

Even if circumstances hadn’t involved meeting a shady, anonymous informant, she still would have preferred not to wander this side of town after dark. Her pulse quickened when she saw the car parked out in front of the warehouse, the door still ajar. _Well, at least we know it wasn’t a crank call. Someone’s home._

She turned on her flashlight and slipped inside. Shipping pallets, some of them looking years old, cluttered the walls. The rusty tines of a forklift poked her as she passed. Her ears pricked up as they caught a sound: rumbling, like an engine idling. No sooner had she heard it, however, than it was gone.

“Hello?”

As her eyes became acclimated to the darkness, she caught sight of something on the floor - no, not something. Someone, lying motionless in wait. Her flashlight caught the shape on the concrete, and she felt the acute urge to vomit.

The spiral horns indicated that in life, he’d been a mountain goat. Now his white fur was turning pink from the red puddle beneath him. He facedown at the apex of violent crimson smear, like the tail of a gory comet, that spread out towards her feet. It was as though he’d exploded - or attacked with extreme violence. Jagged red holes peppered his back. He’d never seen it coming.

She fumbled for her radio receiver on her lapel. “Dispatch,” she breathed. “Officer Hopps. We have a casualty-”

Behind her, she heard the very loud cock of a shotgun. Her thumb slipped off the radio.

“Don’t move.”

Of course she moved. Buckshot tore chunks out of the concrete where she’d been a moment ago, but she was already a blur of movement. The next moment, she heard metal sing as lead pellets punched holes in the forklift behind which she’d taken cover. The next, she was running. The next, diving for cover behind the shipping pallets. The ground rushed up to meet her, and she rolled for cover.

“Dispatch,” she grunted, squeezing her radio as she pressed her back to the wooden boxes. “Dispatch, mayday, need backup on my position-”

Whatever the response from Dispatch was, it was drowned out by the report of the shotgun. Judy cringed and made herself as small a target as possible. Wooden splinters, cardboard viscera, and styrofoam peanuts came raining down on top of her. The wooden partition she’d put between herself at the assassin wasn’t very sturdy; the only advantage she had was that she was very small, and her killer had no idea where to aim.

Keeping as low and sleek a profile as she could, she scooted away from the edge and behind one of the more substantial-looking crates. Her heart raced, her ears rung. A moment later, lead shot punched right through the box she’d just been cowering behind.

“I wish you hadn’t moved,” Citra Tenuk grunted, shouldering the twelve-gauge.

“Citra,” Judy panted. Her voice echoed in the cavernous warehouse. _Keep moving. She’ll try to triangulate your position._ “Citra, you don’t have to do this.”

She heard a snort. “Let’s not patronize each other.”

“You don’t have to kill me. Whatever Varkner’s paying you-”

“Varkner’s dead. We’re past him.”

Her heart caught in her throat. “You killed him?”

“No. Stress-induced myocardial infarction.” She paused. “Heart attack. Caused by the stress of being erroneously accused of murder by the ZPD. We’ll be seeking damages.”

Judy unbuckled her pistol. “You’re gonna have a hard time passing this off as a heart attack.”

“Varkner’s heart had been on the brink for years. Coffee. Alcohol. Prescription medication. Commercial stimulants. Lots of things that shouldn’t be mixed.” She grunted in annoyance. “If you’d waited five minutes, I would’ve cleaned up Watts for you. Shouldn't use city property to send personal emails.”

“Then why are you _doing_ this?” There was no clear path Judy could see to the warehouse door. None but through Citra. “Who’s still paying you?”

“Other mammals. Who paid me for Varkner.”

“The ones who had you shoot Dane Civet?”

“Obviously.”

“And Bucky?”

“Who?”

“My neighbor. It was you who trashed my apartment, wasn’t it?”

“Botched home invasion turned homicide. My specialty. The antelope got in my way.”

“How did you even hit him? You’re too short.”

“CQC training. You should take a self-defence class. One good kick and they all go down.” She cocked the shotgun. “Not your problem anymore. Hmmm… B5.”

The pellets ripped through the cardboard to Judy’s right. She had no choice. Reflexes leaping into action, she spun out from behind cover, aimed right down the barrel, and squeezed the trigger. After the the thunder of the shotgun, the sound her revolver made was an embarrassing pop.

She saw Citra wince, then straighten up. The next moment, Judy dived behind the next stack of pallets. Another blast opened a hole above her head.

“What was _that?_ ” Even Citra sounded amused. “Did you seriously just shoot me with a BB gun? That’s adorable.”

Judy leaned up against her cover and took stock of her options. She had the speed and reflexes, but her opponent was five hundred pounds of unstoppable rage - or at least, judging from her tone, five hundred pounds of implacable annoyance. Citra wasn’t a bad shot; it was hard to hit a bunny, but not impossible. She couldn’t tell where Judy was behind cover, but it was just a matter of time until she got lucky. Judy scooted further down, leading Citra toward the back of the warehouse where the moving equipment lay.

“We know the email came from City Hall,” she called back. “You can’t make me disappear, Citra. Even if you kill me, we’ll have enough proof to take your entire party to trial. You’ve lost.”

Heavy footsteps on the floor told Judy that Citra was following her. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Odds are still better with you dead, though.”

“Citra, _please_ , be reasonable.” She unstrapped her taser. _This is gonna be unpleasant._ “What do you even gain from this?”

“Money.”

“But _why?_ Why choose to do this for a living? Doesn’t it bother you?”

She could all but hear Citra shrugging. “Served two years in the ZAF. Never made Delta Force. Needed a job. Limited skill set.”

Another hole loudly opened near where Judy was standing, showering her in debris. “Nothing personal, officer. Figured from the start I’d either be working with you or killing you eventually. Just how these things tend to work-”

Before she could arrive at the end of her sentence, Judy was in motion. She ducked out from behind her crate and leveled the taser. But she wasn’t the only one moving; Citra ducked the metal prongs and fired wildly from the hip, blasting concrete. Then Judy was running, dodging under her line of fire, drawing her nightstick from her belt and leaping as high as she could. Citra’s face, her surprised marble eyes, rushed toward her-

_Crack._

Judy felt the impact of the blow all the way to her shoulder. Citra hit concrete headfirst, letting out a noise that was one-half cry of pain and one-half jumble of disjointed curses. Judy hit the ground and rolled free, but the tapir was quicker than a creature her size had any right to be. A massive fist landed squarely in the center of Judy’s back, smacking her flat against the floor. She felt her paws give way underneath her. She tasted blood. Then a vicious kick landed in her ribs, driving the air out of her lungs, and the next thing she knew she was suspended and the ground was rushing toward her.

It’s difficult to hit a rabbit. But you only have to hit them once.

When she regained consciousness, she was looking at the world through a haze of pain. She lay on had concrete, her body totally unresponsive beneath her. Her vision was unfocused, but she could see Citra stumbling toward her on unsteady legs.

 _“Aaaaggggh,”_ she hissed, clutching her mouth tenderly. “ _Fuck._ That hurt.” She reached down shakily, groping for the shotgun. “You psychotic little shit. That took balls. Just want you to know that.”

She leveled the shotgun. Judy tried to move, to crawl if she had to, but nothing was working. Her body was spent. She had nothing left to give. _I’m going to die._ Panic seized her chest. _Mom and dad are going to have to bury their daughter. Someone;s going to have to tell them. Nick - oh fuck, Nick, I’m so, so sorry-_

The gun clicked. Judy’s heart stopped.

Nothing happened. Citra looked at it, then slapped herself in the forehead. “Right,” she said, cocking it. “That was stupid of me.”

“Don’t _do_ that!” Judy protested feebly.

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot. Okay, let’s try that with ammo.”

She leveled it again, the barrel wobbling right over Judy’s head. Judy couldn’t help it; she closed her eyes. The last thing that flashed through her mind was the image of her family looking up what a tapir was at her funeral-

“ZPD. Drop it.”

She and Citra both turned in unison. There, emerging from behind the forklift, stood an unkempt-looking timber wolf in a uniform with his claw cuddling the trigger of a very large chrome pistol.

Citra’s eyes flashed from the shotgun in her paw, now pointed at Judy, to officer Wolfard. Gauging the distance. He seemed to read her mind.

“I’m not sure who the fuck you are,” he growled, “but I wouldn’t unless you _really_ want me to fuck you up.”

Citra spun around. They fired in unison. Wolfard was blasted off his feet and slumped hard against a forklift. Citra spun back around in a spiral of blood and hit concrete, twitching.

With unworking paws, Judy managed to pull her taser free, but there was no point. A large and very disgusting hole had ripped open the side of her neck, and she was gasping for air. A heavy paw reached up to try and stem the tide of blood, but only made it halfway. Choking, she twitched and fell back against the floor, life spasming out of her body.

She looked over at Wolfard. All she could see were a pair of shoes sticking out from behind the forklift. She felt her eyes begin to burn.

“Mike,” she whispered. “Mike, please-”

_“Vest.”_

It was barely a murmur, but Judy felt her pulse spike. “Mike, are you okay?”

For a moment, there was no response. There came a soft scraping noise, and Officer Michael Wolfard’s paw appeared from behind the machinery. Grunting, he dragged himself toward her and leaned up against the forklift, wheezing.

“Always… shoot… the fucking… vest,” he grunted.

She slumped against the floor. “Thank God for you, Mike.” Weakly, she thumbed her lapel radio. “Dispatch. Ambulance. Hardey Varkner. Heart attack. Right now.” She didn’t even bother waiting for confirmation. “You okay, Mike?”

“Morphine.”

“You saved my life, Mike. Thanks.”

“Don’t.” He winced and held his side, panting. With one paw, he undid the shoulder straps of his lead-splattered kevlar vest. “Didn’t call it in.”

He smiled. “You’re fucking Nick. I just won fifty bucks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to everyone who guessed the incredibly bleeding obvious plot twist last chapter. Tell me your thoughts below.


	15. Horses and Zebras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are aaaaaaalmost to the end.
> 
> As always, I do this for your comments, so let me know what you think down below.

“Can you feel my paws here?”

“Yes.”

“What about here?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“If I press down on your legs, can you push them up against my paws?”

“I can, but it hurts.”

“Try.”

The imposing jackal in a lab coat levitated her paws a hair or two above Judy’s feet. She barely even touched Judy’s skin, but Nick could hear Judy panting as she tried to exert herself. It seemed to cost her a great deal just to lift her legs at all.

He didn’t care to watch her struggle. “Doc, she’s exhausted,” he interrupted. “Can we do this tomorrow, after she’s slept?”

“I’m sorry, Officer, I’ve gone temporarily deaf to anyone without a medical degree. Push up, Miss Hopps, against me.”

“Trying,” she grunted. “It really hurts.”

“Does it hurt disproportionate to the rest of your body?” Judy shook her head, beads of sweat coalescing on her forehead. “Very well. You can stop.” Doctor Lopez squeezed her toes. “And you _do_ have sensation? You can feel it when I do this?”

“Yeah, I can - _ow!_ Sonofa - what was that for?”

“Checking,” said Doctor Lopez nonchalantly, tossing the needle in the sharps bin. “Mayalan Tapir? You’re very lucky, Miss Hopps, they’re toed ungulates. A solid hoof in the back would’ve made toothpaste of a mammal your size.”

 _The don’t grade on bedside manner, do they, doc?_ was what Nick almost said, but he bit his tongue. No use antagonizing the mammal who had authority to stick sharp things in his partner.

“Yeah,” Judy winced. “My whole body feels extremely _lucky_ right now.”

Lopez scribbled on her tablet. “That’s a five on upper body, four on lower extremities…” She bit her lip. “Well, you’re not paraplegic, and the concussion looks minor. I’m going to _recommend_ a minor hospital stay, even if you feel capable of looking after yourself. I’m also going to refer your case to a specialist, Doctor Ahlbinger, and prescribe a PT regimen, in case we’re looking at nerve damage.”

Judy flexed her paw and made a fist, staring at it as though it were about to start shaking uncontrollably before her very eyes. “That’s not… likely?”

“Possible. If you start losing sensation or experiencing it erratically, you need to come in immediately. But the damage could manifest itself tomorrow, or in fifty years. Brain and nerve trauma is _very_ delicate, Miss Hopps. You need to take care of yourself, or it _will_ add up.”

“Slow death by inches?”

“Try not to think of it that way, Miss Hopps,” she grunted humorlessly. “You’ll end up like me. I’m also going to put you on mandatory medical leave, effective immediately.”

“That, uh, might be a positive thing,” Nick agreed. “Bogo’s already not happy with us.” He continued grinning as though Doctor Lopez were going to smile back. “Don’t worry, doc. I’ll make sure she gets _plenty_ of bed rest.”

Lopez rolled her eyes. “I’m also going to need your partner to keep it in his pants, Miss Hopps.” Judy shot Nick a look. “Sleep, water, and physical therapy. If it’s too strenuous for your grandmother, it’s too much for you. Are we clear?”

Nick cleared his throat. “Doc, I’ll make sure she’s looked after. Can we… get a minute alone?”

Doctor Lopez looked at Judy, who nodded. “I’ll get your prescription samples. Bear in mind that I _can_ hear everything you’re doing.” With a swish of her coat, she vanished out the door.

Judy was shaking her head before Nick even opened his mouth. “Don’t.”

“You’ve got every right to-”

“I _don’t_ blame you,” she told him fiercely. “The only thing you did wrong was trusting me. We made a judgment call, it turned out to be a stupid one. I got a little banged up-”

“Carrots, even _you_ aren’t enough of an optimist to write off nerve damage as _a little banged up._ ”

“We’ve put everything on the line for Zootopia before, haven’t we? It’s our job.” She flexed her fist again, and reached out for his paw. He could feel her running her pads over his, squeezing the warmth and solidness of it. “I’ll _admit_ , if it comes down to it - if I got to choose - I’d rather it not be Parkinson’s that does it for me. But isn’t that the risk we take?”

“You ever wonder why?”

She closed her eyes. “Nick-”

“You wonder why I don’t get bent out of shape about all this political bullshit, Carrots? You’re a sunny-side up kind of person. It’s who you are. Not me. Everything we’ve learned from this nightmare is just stuff I’ve always suspected about Zootopia. You clean up some of the rot, and underneath there’s… more rot. There’s always another Bellwether.”

He sighed. This wasn’t an easy thing to force into words. “Before I met you, Jude, I never thought a cop was gonna change the world. Call it upbringing, whatever. You were the one who made me think differently. But now, we’re… we’re in a position where I have to watch you risk your ass, over and over, to change _nothing_.”

“Do you want out?”

He blinked and found her gazing down at the tile on the floor. “What?”

“I can’t stop.” Her voice was thin and tremulous. Nick didn’t think he’d ever heard her sound so tired. “It’s not just that I won’t, Nick, I _can’t_ stop trying. I need to fix things. It has to be me running the risks, otherwise someone could - _you_ could get hurt. If you’d been there with me, Citra would’ve killed you. I can’t put someone else between myself and a bullet.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can wake up every day knowing I could - knowing something bad could happen to me. But it’s selfish of me to force that on you. So… if you want a way out… no guilt, no hard feelings…”

Nick knew what she was trying to say. But her paws digging into his, holding onto him like a life preserver, unwilling to let go - that said a lot more. “Is that what you want? A way out?”

She choked. “What? No, _God_ , no, that’s not what I-”

“It’s easier to risk your life if you don’t have someone to come back to.” He folded his paws over hers. “But I need you alive, Judy. So enough cowboy cop bullshit. Because you risking your tail while I’m sitting back in the office waiting for a phone call from the hospital is not doing me any favors.”

She laughed; weakly, but it was there. “It wasn’t as if you were doing _nothing_.”

“Yeah… Bogo may have already fired us. I didn’t have the balls to ask.” He reached and took hold of her shoulder, and with no further prompting, she leaned her head into his chest. “I need to be by your side, alright? I need _you_ to trust _me_.”

She nodded. “So, uh… if we’re not breaking up, I’m still gonna need to sleep over.” She straightened up slightly and winced. “Probably on my stomach for the next week or so.”

“Oh, _that_ can be arranged.”

“Don’t even,” she warned him. “And, seeing as I can barely walk… I think there’s something else I need you to do for me.”

“Don’t worry.” He stood up and eased her gently back onto the exam table. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I meant go make sure that Mike’s okay.”

“Oh. That… that was absolutely what I had in mind.”

“Great. Oh, and Nick?” He paused on the way out the door and caught her wearing a smile on her face that he’d never seen before. His smile. “Kick his ass.”

Nick saluted and was gone. Jackson was waiting for him directly outside, one paw lazily draped over his revolver. He nodded and fell in behind Nick.

“Anyone else try to kill you in there?”

“Nope. All good.”

“Thank God. Bogo’s been riding my ass all morning. He’s made it clear that the next fucker who tries gets a lead enema.” He scratched idly behind one ear. “Mike’s gonna be fine, by the way. His sister came and picked him up.”

Nick stared at Jackson. “He never mentioned having a sister.”

Jackson nodded, making a rather indescribable face. “Yeah. There’s… there’s a reason for that. Juliet is… let’s just say being a Wolfard is genetic. How’s the bunny?”

“Still bouncing.”

“That’s a relief. Hey, next time you want backup when you’re tailing an informant, maybe give us a heads-up before the shooting starts. Especially when, y’know, it’s technically _our_ case.”

“I said I was sorry, Sher. Don’t be bitter just because you owe Mike fifty bucks.”

The tiger took a deep breath in and exhaled through his nose. “So _now_ you’re doing the bunny?”

“Do you _have_ a second track to your mind?”

They stopped in front of one of the many inpatient rooms. The blinds were drawn and the door was shut. “So. Good cop bad cop?”

Nick shook his head. “I had something a little different in mind.”

Sher grinned savagely at the thought. “You know, Nick, hiring you was the best fucking idea Bogo’s had in years.” He took the handle and pulled it open for Nick. “As you were, Officer.”

The room was quiet and dim inside. In bed, a massive anteater wearing a hospital gown sat hunched in bed, trailing machine wires. A tube wrapped around his nose, feeding his deep, shaking breaths. A pulse monitor beeped warily in the corner. He gave Nick a cold look.

“I’ve spoken with your superior,” he rasped at Nick, eyes bulging. “I have nothing to say to you.”

It annoyed Nick on some fundamental level that this asshole wasn’t dead. _Hell, I’d rather talk to the damn tapir. At least she was an honest bastard._ “Well, that’s a shame. I thought considering my partner _did_ save your life, you might have warmed up to the idea of coming clean.”

He tried not to take much satisfaction at the look of impotent rage Varkner was wearing. “Hey, I’ve never been in on a conspiracy. Does it burn you much to know that your own people tried to have you rubbed out?”

He breathed heavily around his nasal cannula. “Citra Tenuk… was an unstable, deranged individual who acted of her own accord-”

“If that’s the best lie you’ve got, Hardey, no wonder your party’s failing. That cold-blooded bitch just tried to fill my colleague full of buckshot, and we both know damn well that she didn’t do for politics.”

“She’s dead,” Varkner said shortly. “Prove me wrong.”

“That’s why I’m here. I want the names of the ones who tried to kill you. _Everyone_ in on it. All the way down to Dane Civet and the mammals he was silencing. And you’re going to give them to me.”

Varkner didn’t like that. Or at least, his machine didn’t, not the way it beeped. He took a deep, stuttering breath through his tubes.

“Go fuck yourself, chomper.”

Nick said nothing, but reached up and knocked on the door. On cue, Jackson shifted his bulk directly in front of the door, blocking the window. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“My lawyer is coming. Take your good-cop, bad-cop routine and-”

“No, good cop is still recovering from your crazy bodyguard. And bad cop has four broken ribs, _also_ courtesy of your bodyguard. This cop is telling you to sit your geriatric ass down before I reprogram that shiny new pacemaker of yours with a car battery, you insect-sucking piece of shit.”

Varkner opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _Remember Mr. Big,_ Nick reminded himself. _Show this fucking suit how it’s done._

“Don’t worry about the tiger, Hardey,” he announced, strolling over to the window. “Jackson’s gone selectively blind and deaf for about five minutes or so. Whatever happens in here, he won’t even notice.”

The blinds were already drawn, but he shut them again for emphasis.  Varkner’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “You are _fired_.”

“Maybe. If we’re playing by your rules. You have high-flying lawyers who can talk your way out of anything, you have goons like Dane Civet who can shut up your witnesses, you have psychopaths like Citra who can silence mammals for good - doesn’t seem like your rules are very fair.”

He unpinned the badge from his lapel. “So you want me fired, Hardey? Fine.” He set it on the counter with a delicate clink. “Just means I get to do this the way _I_ want.”

Varkner’s pulse monitor began to beep frantically. Nick reached out and pressed the mute. “Here. Let’s take care of that. Hey, Hardey, you represent prey. Did you ever learn the difference between horses and zebras?”

Varkner’s mouth gaped nonsense syllables. He seemed to have run out of air. “Me neither, until a couple of days ago. My partner, see, she was a great student in school, y’know, the kind of kid I used to take lunch money from. Knows all these wild facts. She told me that way back when, when we were less evolved, horses ran in herds. Every herd had a leader, an organization - like a party, you might say. They defended each other. And if predators like me attacked one horse, the whole herd would fight back. Horses were team players.”

Nonchalantly, he climbed up on the hospital bed and put rested his weight on Varkner’s legs. The anteater struggled, but his limbs were frail, and he was too weak to kick Nick away.

“But see, zebras, they made a different choice when they evolved. You ever see those really old films, the ones where a few lions chase hundreds and hundreds of zebras? That’s because zebras never had a herd. They never cared about leaders, or order, or each other. Every zebra was only in it for himself. And the only reason they banded together was so that, when the lions came for them, the odds were good that they’d kill someone else.”

He began to walk leisurely forward over Varkner’s body as the anteater struggled feebly against him. He planted one foot on Varkner’s solar plexus and listened with no small amount of joy to the sound of air being forced out of the anteater’s lungs.

“Isn’t that amazing? I never imagined someone that smart would ever see anything in a guy like me. That's the kind of bunny you're fucking with, Hardey. Let that sink in before you open your mouth again.”

He stepped right over Varkner’s heart and heard him gasp in pain. “Makes you think, doesn’t it? Are you in it for the herd? Or for yourself? Because if you feel like giving us those names - the names of the mammals who tried to kill you, might I add - my friend Jackson is waiting right outside the door to take them. If you cooperate, if you give us the whole party, you might _just_ save your own ass from a nice long sentence as some lion’s prison girlfriend.”

He leaned in, smelling the sweat and fear leaching off Varkner’s skin. He could taste the anteater’s rancid breath. He laid a paw gently on Varkner’s throat, letting him feel the tips of his claws. The heart monitor screamed silently.

“But _I_ don’t want that,” he growled. “As far as I’m concerned, Hardey, you just tried to have my partner killed. And if you had, you’d be dead already. So I’m asking you, I’m _begging_ you-” he flexed his claws, “-be a team player. Let me rip it out of you; give me an excuse to _make_ you talk. I don’t care about my job, I don’t care if it costs us the case. All I want right now is to hurt you like you’ve never imagined you could be hurt.”

He drew back and grinned in Varkner’s face. He made sure to show all his teeth.

“So, Hardey. What’s it gonna be?”


	16. Finale

_“-many mammals see as a hopeful return to renovation, rebuilding, and business as usual in Zootopia. This decision comes less than a week after the vicious attack that left Councilman Dane Civet in critical condition. No change in Civet’s condition had yet been reported, but Mayor Humpf has announced a forthcoming vigil to be held at City Hall. We go now to our ongoing coverage of-”_

Onscreen, the image of the newscaster cut to video of a middle-aged Silka deer in line at the ballot box. Judy thumbed the mute button the remote.

“It passed,” she called into the kitchen. “Dane Civet’s pet project. It’s gone through.”

She could hear Nick roll his eyes all the way from the kitchen. “No shit.”

She reclined back into the couch as much as possible given her limited range of motion. The painkillers had left her pleasantly floaty for a while, but the effect was definitely wearing off now, especially at the joints. “For what it’s worth, Nick-”

“I know. Can’t win ‘em all.” The fridge door slammed. “Still, you take down two corrupt parties in a row, seems like the universe should owe you a freebie.”

“What have we got to eat?”

“Leftover pizza and, uh, reheated leftover pizza.”

She propped her head up on the armrest and sunk into the couch cushions. “Second one please, chef,” she mumbled, lazily prodding the remote again.

_“-more members of the Liberal Democrat party arrested this afternoon in conjunction with the scandal currently enveloping City Hall, bringing the total to nineteen arrested so far. No formal charges have been declared, but the ZPD moved Liberal Democrat party chair Hardey Varkner into federal custody today.”_

A picture of a stretcher surrounded by armed officers being wheeled into the back of an ambulance filled the screen. _“The alleged charges against Varkner include corruption, embezzlement, and using political intimidation and assassination to silence dissidents, including a suspected attempt on the life of Officer Judith Hopps of the ZPD.”_

The screen changed to a picture of her face. _They always use the worst photo,_ she thought. Still, as they showed a video of another mammal being led away in handcuffs, she couldn’t help but feel at least a twinge of satisfaction, a glimmer of a job well done.

“There it is, Nick,” she mumbled. “There’s our silver lining.”

_“Protesters filled Savannah Square yesterday as news of the arrests went viral on social media, and demonstrations have spread all the way to the city center. Estimates range from eight to ten thousand mammals in the streets, with many calling for emergency elections and the dissolution of both major parties. The ZTA has suspended public transportation in response to rioters in the Pack Street neighborhood, who set fire to a local business and overturned a vehicle. Many in the government are pressuring the ZPD to declare a state of emergency-”_

“And there it goes,” she muttered, feeling whatever elation remained drain out of her. _Kinda wish they hadn’t used my photo now._ Onscreen, images of a bakery in flames cut to mammals marching in front of City Hall, shouting down a line of SWAT officers and plastic shields. The sound was muted, but it was easy enough to tell what they were chanting.

_“Fuck pigs! Fuck pigs! Fuck pigs!”_

Maybe Nick was right. Not the kind of thing that bears too much thinking about, but maybe there was no way to change things. She wondered if people like Civet and Varkner planned it this way, made sure that there was no way to remove them from power without everything collapsing into chaos.

_“The remanding of Hardey Varkner federal custody precipitated riots at the Leodore Lionheart Correctional Facility-”_

“Ugh, turn it off,” Nick whined, tossing a couple of paper plates on the end table. “We’ve earned a break from caring for a few days.”

“Pigs, Nick. That’s what they’re calling us.” Normally, the racist term would’ve made her cringe. Now she just shook her head. “What did we _do?_ ”

“I know, it’s degrading. I _like_ pigs.” She shot him a look as he flopped down beside her. “We’ve got testimony on record from what, fifty mammals now? These assholes were running a racket in Zootopia for years, and the ZPD didn’t do jack. Maybe they’re not exactly wrong to accuse us of being part of the machine.”

“That makes me feel _much_ better.” She took a disinterested bite of the pizza. “Mm. You know, one of us is gonna have to teach the other how to cook.”

He stretched out behind her, filling the length of the couch. “What, you’re gonna make an honest fox out of my bachelor ass?”

His paws reached under her arms and lifted her onto him. She grunted, sore, and adjusted herself against his chest. One of his paws under her head made for a decent pillow. “Please. I have two hundred siblings; you’re lucky I can peel a potato.”

His bushy tail brushed against her feet teasingly. She seized it and clutched it against her chest. One of his paws fell lazily over her. “You wanna watch something nice?”

“Honestly, I think I’d rather just… lie here. For a while.”

He fell silent for a minute or two. She listened to the rhythm of his lungs, in and out, and knew he was trying to think of something to tell her. “Y’know… back before I met you, I’d have written this off as a failure. This is the kind of thing I’d point to when I wanted to justify not giving a shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is, you convinced me. Maybe you can convince the rest of the world too. Do you really think anyone would be better off if you hadn’t done anything?”

Onscreen, a panda bear in riot gear fired a canister of tear gas into the crowd. She closed her eyes and turned off the TV. “I don’t think so. But it doesn’t help much.”

His cold, wet nose tickled between her ears. She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I’m not in much shape to refuse, Nick.”

“Good, cause I’m not asking.” Another little kiss. “You’re here until you feel better. Inside _and_ out.”

She closed her eyes and burrowed further into his chest. She didn’t thank him, and he didn’t need to ask; anything she could tell him, he already knew. She almost wished she was in any shape for sex; the distraction would be welcome right now.

At least their little one-night stand hadn’t been wasted; she’d have felt horribly awkward asking Nick to cuddle her like this before. And she needed this: physicality, contact. Plus, now that she was his girlfriend, she didn’t feel much pressure to wear pants around his apartment anymore, which was a definite bonus.

“Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“No, I think this would be an excellent time to bottle up our feelings and stop communicating altogether.”

“Ha ha. Is a rabbit’s foot still lucky if I break it off inside you?”

“...was that actually what you were going to ask me?”

“No, I was getting your attention.” _And now I feel like dirty for stooping to your level._ “What did you tell Varkner?”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I… my temper might’ve gotten away from me. I talked pretty big game, this whole speech just sort of came to me.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“I basically offered to pick the bulkiest medical instrument in the room and give him a free colonoscopy, yeah.” He paused uncertainly. “You _did_ tell me to kick his ass.”

“I would’ve paid for ringside seats,” she admitted. “But… that wasn’t smart. If he goes to his lawyer claiming that we forced a confession out of him, his testimony will be thrown out. Fruit of the poison tree, it’s called.”

“We’ve still got more witnesses than we can count, Jude. His party is in shambles. Even if he walks-”

“He can’t get a job selling burgers. I’m not worried about him walking. You - and Jackson, I guess - you just _threatened_ him. That’s a serious crime. If I lose him, I’ll survive; if I end up losing _you-_ ”

“Judy - he would’ve had you shot. His goon nearly killed you. And he was going to dodge everything and go right back to work. How was I supposed to take that calmly?”

It was starting to rain outside. “If it’d been you,” she muttered, “I’d have killed him. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“Carrots, the system was built for guys like Varkner. If I could’ve done it another way...”

“Would you? Would you really?”

That quieted him for a moment. “No,” he finally confessed. “I wanted to. It felt good to scare him. To get back at him for hurting you. I did this for _you_ , fluff.”

“I know. I’m - I just wish there was another way.” She took a deep breath. “We'll just have to hope he keeps his mouth shut. And promise that from now on, we won’t make a habit out of this. I need you here, Nick. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to put twenty corrupt politicians in jail, but if you lose your job-”

He stroked back her ears. “It’s just a job, carrots. You’re the one making a difference out there anyway.”

“And you’re not going anywhere?” she pressed. “Even if you’re fired?”

“It’s not a workplace relationship then, is it?”

She was glad to be buried in his midsection, glad that he couldn’t see the stupid smile he’d put on her face. She burrowed into his chest and tried to relax. If it was too late to change what had happened, she was at least going to allow herself to enjoy this moment. For better or for worse, she’d made a difference in the word. _They’d_ made a difference in the world. Together. How could she want more than that?

“I think I love you, sly fox.”

“I think I love you too, dumb bunny.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hardey Varkner awoke with pains in his chest. He lay still in his hospital bed and struggled to breathe. A cloud lingered over his chest, a weight forcing him down and keeping his lungs empty. Every breath was met with tightening pain.

The ward was empty. One other patient, a jackal in orange, lay in the bed to his right, and he was wearing restraints. There was a button on his IV pole he could press for help, but he doubted they were going to be very sympathetic. Prison hospitals didn’t feel the need to coddle you that general hospitals did.

This whole thing was insulting. He hadn’t been tried; he should have been set free until his trial. At the bare minimum, he should’ve been placed under house arrest. But one of those fucking crooks had found a judge willing to declare him a flight risk to justify detaining him until his court date, and then they’d shuffled him off to this miserable hole to show the public that they were finally doing their jobs.

His lawyer, of course, had urged him to cooperate. Hardey could tell he was excited; one of this miserable ambulance-chasing parasites who love nothing more than a TV trial. Bastard.  Hardey could’ve told him upfront about the treatment he’d received at the paws of Zootopia’s finest, but he’d bitten his tongue. You squealed to a lawyer while in prison, and the next thing you knew, a couple of big guys with supremacist tattoos came to pay you a visit in your cell later; he’d had it done to mammals before.

_No. At trial. In front of cameras. I’ll have that furry little cocksucker by the balls, and that buffalo and his rabbit bitch as accessories._ Hardey wasn’t deluded; he was fully aware that every single bootlicking shit in his party had probably sold him out by now. There was going to be a mountain of evidence waiting for him at his trial. If only that stupid little fox hadn’t just handed him the mother of all get-out-of-jail-free cards.

They were _all_ going to pay for this.

Somewhere in the prison, he could hear the sounds of a commotion. Muted alarms, boots on the concrete. It didn’t take much to get these savages to riot; they were already burning cars Thankfully, the commotion sounded a long way off. Still, he kept his eye trained warily on the door. _These pigs would love nothing more than for some fucking chomper to break in here and eviscerate me._

As he watched, panting with the exertion of trying to fill his lungs, his eye drifted back to the jackal in the next bed. The restraints had kept him pinned bodily to his bed, and his Hardey couldn’t see his chest rise. And he couldn’t hear breathing. The room was barely moonlit, only just bright enough to see, but as Hardey’s eyes adjusted, he could make out a dark stain beneath the jackal’s head that was slowly spreading across the mattress.

“He’s awake.”

As though from nowhere, a bull in a bulky orange jumpsuit appeared to his right. Hardey’s breath caught in his throat. He was colossal, and covered with tattoos that Hardey couldn’t read. Ordinarily, Hardey would have assumed that prey like this was on his side. Now he was no longer sure.

He said nothing. If they expected him to cower, they were going to be disappointed.

“He can hear us,” remarked a ram, materializing on the other side of his bed. A clunky hoof pressed a button on the railing, and with a motorized whine, Hardey felt the bed descend. “He’s just being obstinate.” Now towering above Hardey, he smiled down eerily. “Ain’t that right, Varkner?”

“They’re gonna check in here soon,” a third voice piped up. Hardey couldn’t see the speaker, but he sounded small. “Riot ain’t making much noise out here. We got to move now.”

“Shut to fuck up and watch the door, Miles,” the bull rumbled. “Our guys’ll keep the fucking fascists occupied. We’ll be gone before you know it.”

“You don’t mind, do you Hardey?” The ram tossed a scalpel back on the jackal’s bed. “We had to go to a lot of trouble to arrange a face-to-face. No witnesses, no cameras - just us.”

Hardey gave the ram his most defiant look. He could barely lift his paws, but he was not going down cowering. If these imbeciles thought they could intimidate him...

“What,” he hissed, “do you want?”

The ram just smiled. “Boss?”

The bed stuttered as it hit the ground. In the gloam of the ward, Hardey’s eyes focused on a shape, smaller than the others. A ewe, wearing an ill-fitting jumpsuit, her wool untrimmed. She smiled at Hardey, and he felt a tremor run down his body, an uncontrollable twitch of fear. She smiled, mechanically, but it was as though she’d been taught how: there was no warmth in her expression, just dead reflex. No emotion at all, except a kind of sick glee that lived in her eyes.

The bull gripped his shoulder. He wasn’t going anywhere. Varkner couldn’t breathe.

“Hi there, Hardey,” Bellwether chirped, her hooves unwrapping a wicked scalpel. “I’ve been waiting a _long_ time for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I can't believe I wrote this whole damn thing. I guess I just love you all that much. Thanks for all the nice things you've said along the way and for all the encouragement to keep writing more and better. Ad astra per aspera, y'all.
> 
> I had some fun with this, and I may write a continuation later, I'll keep you all posted. Check back in from time to time.
> 
> And as always, I live for feedback, so if you want to tell me what you think below, that'd be just swell. And if you read through without saying anything yet, it's never too late.


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